Chris gets to the room first, one of the most expensive hotels in town, one of the most expensive suites. The main room has a big couch in dark brown leather, elegant and comfortable, the kind that only serious money can buy. Chris would have to sell his Harley to afford something like that, or take this sideline, this thing he does for extra cash or when he wants a good time, and turn it into a real job. Having to service clients full time would take all the fun out of it. And he doesn't like that kind of commitment anyway. He likes to be able to walk away, no fuss, no bother. Too bad it took four divorces to figure that out.

The couch has a lot of possibilities, so does the king sized four-poster bed. There are two leather chairs in the main room, a sturdy cherry wood table, a writing desk. He lingers in the bathroom, eyeing the sunken tub and the steam shower. So many possibilities in these rooms.

But he didn't bring any of his toys with him, not even a set of cuffs. Interview first, and if Chris decides he can work with the man, they'll meet here again for the real thing.

He rearranges a few things before the client arrives. Deciding on the leather wingback, he pulls it closer to the table and angles it exactly the way he wants it. He checks the bar, then makes himself a drink, and sets it on the table. Sitting down, he checks his watch, and if the guy is late, there will be consequences.

But he isn't late. There is a soft knock on the door, then a faint click as the lock opens. Chris puts his hand on his glass and leaves it there, not drinking.

When the client walks in, Chris feels a flare of heat deep in his belly. Whether this works out or not, he'll have to call Vince and thank him for making this arrangement. Vince sure as hell knows Chris's tastes.

The client is dressed in a business suit, dark gray with a light blue shirt. Expensive shoes, expensive haircut, expensive everything, no matter how understated. So the guy has money, and it feels like old money. He isn't wearing any jewelry, but there is a telltale mark around the third finger of his left hand.

"Take off your jacket and tie."

The client hesitates, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it with a thoughtful frown. Slowly, he takes off his jacket, then the tie, folding them over the arm of the couch. Chris approves. The guy either catches on fast, or is smart enough to play along without question. Vince had told Chris that the client had never done anything like this before, so his unquestioning obedience so soon is a very good sign.

"Unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt and roll your sleeves up."

There is another moment of hesitation, but Chris can train that out of him, easily. Again, he obeys. Chris notes that he doesn't try to put on a show, no posing or coy glances. He simply does what he's told. That's good.

"Take off your shoes and socks."

For one minute, he thinks the guy might balk, but again he obeys. When he's done, he stands there waiting for his next order. Chris takes his time, studying what could be his new client. If the interview works out, Chris will tell him what to wear next time. For now, he looks damn good with his burnished gold hair and his square shoulders. There is a tiny hint of softness around the waist, but Chris likes that kind of thing.

"Come here," Chris says, pointing at the floor in front of him.

The guy takes a deep breath and approaches, then stops in the space in front of Chris.

"On your knees."

This is sometimes the sticking point for those new to the scene, but the guy surprises him and simply goes down, a light flush staining his cheeks. The carpet is deep and plush; it won't hurt him to kneel for a while.

"You can tell me your name, or I can give you one," Chris says.

The guy clears his throat, "Tobias. Tobias Beecher."

Inwardly, Chris rolls his eyes. He didn't actually want to know his real name, but this Beecher guy hadn't caught onto that.

"Chris." The name just slips out. Damn. "We'll figure out what you will call me after the interview," he adds.

Beecher nods.

"Tell me what you're looking for, Toby." Fuck, looks like he has already named the guy, without even thinking about it.

Toby bows his head, eyes down, but it isn't a show of submission. He is thinking about something, and whatever it is makes him nervous enough to gnaw on his lower lip and rub his palms against his thighs.

Taking a deep breath, Toby looks up and pins Chris with the most amazing blue eyes he's ever seen.

"I almost killed someone three months ago. A little girl." Then he goes quiet, waiting for Chris's reaction.

"And?"

Maybe he is expecting horror or anger, because he seems taken aback by Chris's bland calm.

"I almost killed a child," he says, slowly.

"And what does that have to do with why you're here?"

Toby turns inward again. The little crinkle in his eyebrow as he pulls his thoughts together is adorable. So is his upturned nose. Nice hands. Nice wrists that will look good in cuffs.

"I guess I should have started out by telling you that I'm an alcoholic." His shoulders slump, and his head bends in shame, real shame and not just an act. "That's the hardest thing I've ever had to admit."

When he looks back up, his eyes are full of emotion, sorrow and regret, all genuine, and Chris can't help feeling drawn in. Chris keeps still, suddenly very much aware of the drink in his hand.

"When was the last time you had a drink?"

Toby winces. "The day I almost killed someone while driving drunk."

That makes sense, but, "That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Because I can't do this by myself. I have a sponsor, but he's not enough. I went to a meeting and already I know that's not going to be enough, either."

"So paying for a good time will help you with your problem?"

Toby's eyes warm with a smile that Chris feels in the pit of his stomach. A warning rings in the back of his mind, telling him to get up and walk out, he doesn't need the money that much. He had only agreed to the interview as a favor to Vince, but he'd made no promises about taking the guy on as a client. It isn't too late to say 'no.'

Chris isn't ready for any new attachments, not so soon after the second divorce from Bonnie. Instead of thanking Vince, he might have to kick his ass instead.

"I'm not exactly looking for a good time. I'm looking for control, and it's obvious I don't have it." Toby scrubbed a hand over his face. "Did Vince tell you anything about me?"

"I'll ask the questions," Chris says, voice a bit sharp. The interview isn't like any he's ever had, and it irritates him that Vince only gave him the sketchiest details. There is a lot more going on here than a new sub wanting an experienced Dom to break him in.

It's been a good five years since he'd kept a sub for longer than a fun weekend, not since his divorce from Angelique and his second marriage to Bonnie. After a long evening of whining to Vince about his problems, Vince had suggested a new client as a way to both "get his groove back" so to speak, and a way to make the money he needed to open his own shop. Certainly, he doesn't mind working for Louie, but Chris had his own ideas about what kind of custom bikes he wanted to create and the kind of people he wanted to make them for.

Some extra cash, a few months of fun with a sweet little sub, that's all he'd been after. Five minutes with Toby, and Chris already knows he's a whole world of complicated.

Definitely have to kick Vince's ass.

"What kind of control are you looking for? This is a game for most people, a lifestyle for some. What people do in the bedroom doesn't necessarily affect real life."

"I-- I really don't know." Toby frowned. "When I mess up, I want to face consequences that won't land me in prison," he pauses, "or give me nightmares. I dream about that little girl sometimes, and she's plastered on my windshield, staring at me with dead eyes. I'm lucky she only got a few scratches from falling off her bike. I don't know if I could have lived with myself if I'd actually killed her."

Glancing pointedly at Toby's left hand, Chris asks, "What about your wife? Shouldn't you turn to her for what you want?"

"I left my wife about a month after The Accident." Chris can hear the emphasis on the words, and so can Toby, because he shakes his head. "It's weird, but I'm probably going to measure the rest of my life against The Accident. Instead of saying I walked out on my wife two months ago, I find myself saying I walked out one month after The Accident."

Chris isn't happy about any of this. He now knows more personal information about Tobias Beecher than he'd ever known about all of his past clients combined. But he can't help digging, wanting to know more.

Toby is thinking again, not paying attention to Chris. Chris should call him on it, he doesn't like it. Toby should be entirely focused on his Dom. Everything about him practically screams vanilla. Probably never did anything more daring than get tied up with silk scarves by an ex-girlfriend -- good enough to fuck, but not to marry. He probably thought he was wild the one time he let someone blindfold him.

Chris is already more interested than he should be. Thinking about teaching Toby how wild he really can be excites him, and makes him start seriously considering this crazy proposition. Chris is figuring out that this isn't a typical job: a bit of bondage, a bit of spanking and the client goes away happy until the next session.

He's still not exactly sure what Toby is after.

"You said something about facing consequences. What exactly do you mean? I'm sure you're not talking about being sent to bed without supper." Chris quirks an eyebrow, because it would be interesting if the answer is yes. "Unless you are?"

Toby smiles, really smiles, and Chris feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He is pretty enough, but the smile lights him up, warms Chris all the way through.

"If it was that simple, I wouldn't be here." Then he huffs, the smile twisting a wryly. "And I'd still be with my wife." Toby shrugs. "I need discipline. Guidance. Consequences."

"You're still not answering the question. I want you to be specific. What kind of discipline? What kind of consequences?"

Toby blushes a little, then gets irritated to cover it. "I might not have done this before, but I'm not completely ignorant. Consequences can include," Toby clears his throat, and he blushes a little harder, "corporal punishment."

Chris has to press his lips together to keep from laughing. "Corporal punishment," he says, drawing the words out.

It's Toby who finally breaks and laughs. "Okay, okay. Spanking. I said it. Happy now?"

"Very," Chris says, letting himself laugh along with Toby.

A smile plays around Toby's mouth. "You're the expert here. I'm sure you can come up with something creative. But I'll be doing my best not to screw up." The remnants of his smile disappears. "I have to change. I'm committed to it, but I don't think I can do it on my own."

"There has to be someone else you can turn to."

Toby is already shaking his head. "There isn't. Everyone in my life is invested in me being the same old Toby. My parents can't accept that I left Gen; they still think there's a chance I'll go back to her." The words are spilling out, and Chris can tell by his fidgeting that Toby wants to get up and pace around. "My dad doesn't understand why I won't share a drink with him, and my mom gets upset when I won't have a glass of wine when I have dinner with them. Don't even ask about my friends, because I'm beginning to realize I don't have any. Just coworkers and drinking buddies."

Chris is perplexed. Clients have come to him for stress relief, a break from their ordinary lives, a chance to let go. That's what Toby needs, a safe place to play, to give up control. But that's not what he's looking for. He doesn't even understand what kind of opportunity he has with Chris.

Then again, Chris doesn't quite know what to do with Toby, either.

"You've talked about punishment and discipline. What about rewards? What do you expect when you've been good?"

"Um," Toby starts, then rubs at the back of his neck as he gropes for an answer. He looks more than a little embarrassed when he admits, "I never even thought of that. But it makes sense to have both rewards and punishments."

Chris tries not to be charmed by Toby's disconcerted smile. In an effort to not be drawn to this man any more than he already is, Chris leans forward, elbows on knees, close enough that he can feel Toby's breath on his face. "I don't think you know what you want. You're desperate, grasping at straws, and you're going to get yourself into a situation you won't be able to get yourself out of."

Toby's eyes go wide, then slowly, he nods. "Yes, you're right," he says, surprising Chris with his quick agreement. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never done anything like this before." Toby looks away. Chris can see his throat work as he swallows. "I need something to keep me away from alcohol, someone stronger than me-- "

"Shouldn't that be a higher power?" Chris asks, doubtfully.

"I don't know if I even believe in God any more, but if he exists, letting Kathy Rockwell live was his warning to me." Straightening his back, and lifting his chin, he says. "I'd be a fool to ignore that warning."

Leaning back, Chris hooks his toe around the leg of the chair next to Toby and pushes it slightly away from the table. Nudging Toby's thigh, he motions to the chair. "Get up. We need to figure out what you really want."

Wincing, Toby stands up slowly, his knees cracking loud enough that Chris hears them. No matter what they decide to do, Chris makes a mental note that he shouldn't keep Toby on his knees for too long, not even as punishment.

Toby pulls the chair out and turns it around so that he is close enough to Chris that their legs are almost touching. Toby's look is expectant, so Chris plows on. The interview has already gone so far off the rails, he's lost sight of the tracks.

"What about sex?"

A faint blush sweeps over Toby's face, and that seems to embarrass him even more as he tilts his head down. But Chris leans in, keeping his face close to Toby's, refusing to break eye contact.

"I-- I guess-- " Toby finally stutters out. "We'll have sex eventually."

"How 'bout right now?"

Toby gasps and draws back in his chair, but that doesn't put any distance between them. "We don't know each other!"

Chris very nearly laughs in Toby's face. Toby must realize this because he goes from shock to annoyance, looking as affronted as a wet cat.

"Oh, fine, have a laugh. It's obvious you're not taking this seriously."

Smiling, Chris puts his hand on Toby's knee. "I am taking this seriously. Doesn't mean we can't have a laugh, too. Lighten up. This is supposed to be fun."

"This is my life," Toby said, lower lip pooching out a little. God, Chris wants to kiss the pout right off his face.

"Have you ever had sex with a man?"

Looking anywhere but at Chris, Toby finally shrugs. "A couple times in college. Oh, and once in high school. Um, we masturbated together..." The words trail off as Toby bites his lower lip.

Chris is already interested, but a pleasant heat suffuses his skin at Toby's confession. He can imagine Toby fumbling around with a friend, probably looking at stolen porn magazines together and getting turned on.

"Did you touch each other?"

"No!" Toby backtracks. "Okay, there would have been nothing wrong if we had, but we didn't."

"What about the guys in college?" Chris is really curious about the answer. He needs to know how much of a two beer queer Toby is. He's fairly sure that Toby wouldn't mess around with men under other circumstances, not unless he was so closeted as a gay man that he didn't know himself.

"Is this really important? Shouldn't we be talking about what comes next?"

Toby's efforts to try to move on to a safer topic flips him right out of the frying pan and into the fire. Chris lets the predatory grin he's been holding back come out to play. Toby sees it and shifts nervously in his chair.

"No. There's been enough talk. It's time for you to convince me to take you on as a client."

"I thought I already did that?"

"You still have to pass the second half of the interview."

Sliding down in his chair a little, Chris let his thighs fall open. He let his hand drift to the soft bulge of his cock, enjoying the pressure of his hand through denim. Toby stares, open-mouthed.

"Get on your knees." When Toby doesn't move, Chris growls, "You can get on your knees right now, or you can walk out. Your choice."

Gulping, Toby slides to the floor, flicking glances at Chris's face, but mostly staring at his crotch. Chris gives his cock a nice squeeze before reaching out to stroke his hand through Toby's hair. It's as soft as he thought it would be and he likes the way the curls at the nape tangle around his fingers.

Toby is tense. He's probably never had a man touch him this way before, but after a minute or two his eyes go heavy-lidded and his lips part. It seems Toby has a sensual side, one that's strong enough to overcome his nerves. Chris wants to find out more.

Blinking his eyes open wide, Toby looks a bit disappointed when Chris pulls his hand away to rest on his thigh.

"Start with the belt. Unbuckle it."

Chris waits as Toby works himself up to what he has to do if this crazy idea of his is going to move on to the next step. He watches every expression, the uncertainty, a touch of fear, but mostly curiosity. Chris is so fascinated by the show, he doesn't realize Toby has come to a decision until he feels Toby tugging at his belt. When it's undone, Toby grins triumphantly, as if he's done something special.

He can't help himself, he runs his fingers through Toby's hair again, and Toby instantly leans into the touch. So Chris finds the first reward for Toby, a fairly simple one, and pleasant for both of them.

Stroking the nape of Toby's neck, Chris says, "Now the zipper."

Toby barely hesitates. He fumbles a bit, but he gets the button open and the zipper down. Chris isn't fully hard, but getting his jeans open makes him much more comfortable. Toby is staring again at the boxer-brief covered bulge only a few inches in front of his face. Chris hides a grin when he realizes that Toby is breathing him in, taking in his scent, and apparently liking it because he licks his lips.

"Take my cock out."

Toby isn't even trying to hide how fascinated he is when he reaches for the waistband of Chris's briefs. His hands are trembling a little, but he's very careful not to catch any hair in the elastic, or let it snap against Chris's cock.

Obligingly, Chris shifts his hips so Toby can shove both the briefs and jeans further down.

Toby stares at Chris's erection for a long moment, then licks his lips again. Without urging, he runs his fingertips down the length of Chris's cock, making Chris gasp at the unexpectedness of it. Toby traces a vein, watching what he's doing with intense fascination. Then he wraps his hand around Chris's cock, holds it, studying.

Taking control, Chris gently pulls Toby toward him by the nape of his neck. "Taste me."

Toby's breathing is audible in the quiet room. His eyes are wide as he closes the last few inches between Chris's cock and his mouth without any further coaxing. His grip tightens as he gives the tip of Chris's cock a curious lick. The flavor must not bother him because he licks again, then swirls his tongue around the head. He leans back frowning.

"Am I doing it right?"

Chris lets out his breath, not realizing he's been holding it. "You're doing fine. Keep licking for a while. I'll tell you when to try something else."

Moving his hand to get a better grip, Toby leans in and licks the head of Chris's cock. His brow wrinkles in concentration as he laps at the head, then works his way down the shaft. It's sexy the way he's so intent on what he's doing; Chris has to force himself to stay still.

Chris can tell that Toby's thinking about what he himself likes because he suddenly focuses on that spot right under the head, his tongue flicking rapidly at the vein. It feels good and Toby looks good blowing him. He's starting to lose the intensity, relaxing and enjoying what he's doing instead of trying to impress.

Running his hand into the hair above Toby's nape and gripping it, Chris moves the action along before Toby forgets that he's here to please Chris.

"Take me in your mouth and suck," he says, using the hand in Toby's hair to guide his head.

Toby takes the tip into his mouth like he is born to it. He sucks for a bit, then remembers that he has a tongue and swirls it around.

"You can take more," Chris says.

Toby does, taking in another couple of inches. He tries to suck and coordinate his tongue at the same time until Chris pulls him back slightly. Toby opens his eyes and looks at Chris.

"Just suck. Rub your tongue along the underside."

Toby closes his eyes and does what he's told. It's not rocket science, and Toby soon figures out how to suck while moving his mouth up and down on Chris's cock. He doesn't take in much, just the head and a couple of inches, but it's enough to send sweet waves of pleasure flowing from Chris's dick to his balls.

Along the way, Toby remembers his hands and curls one around the base. His rhythm gets clumsy until he coordinates his hand with the his mouth. He's doing great, and Chris strokes his hair to let him know. "Good. Keeping doing that and in a few minutes you'll make me come. Do you want to make me come?"

Toby's answer is a throaty sound, the vibrations zinging down the length of Chris's cock. Breath catching in his throat, the muscles in Chris's thighs start to bunch and strain as he gets closer to coming. Toby must be remembering again, because he starts to swirl his tongue on the upstroke. He doesn't keep it up for long, though, and he has to pull off as he chokes a little.

Some of the tension goes out of him as Toby shifts his jaw from side to side. "Take your time. Don't get too ambitious."

"Now you tell me," Toby grumbles.

Grinning, Chris cuffs Toby lightly on the head. "Get back to work."

Toby snorts. "Now I know why they call it a job."

Chris can't help laughing, scrubbing a hand over Toby's head, sending his neatly combed hair in all directions. Now that's better.

Toby gives him a mock dirty look before sucking him in again. It takes another minute for him to get his hand, lips, and tongue synchronized, but he finally manages a slow, sweet rhythm. Chris knows he has to come soon, Toby's jaw isn't going to last much longer. It's too fun sitting back and watching Toby figure out what to do. As Toby experiments, he seems to be surprised at how much he's enjoying himself.

Toby is starting to flag, his jaw must be killing him, so Chris relaxes, lets the pleasure take him over during the next few good sucks. Orgasm still sneaks up on him. He gives Toby's hair a sharp tug just in time, gritting out, "I'm gonna come. Jack me with your hand."

Immediately, Toby pulls off and strokes up with his hand, and it's perfect, perfect; Chris shudders and watches himself come over Toby's hand and all over his own shirt, and damn, he hadn't meant to do that, but it's too late.

Come spreads over his cock as Toby coaxes him through the aftershocks, until Chris has to make him stop. Toby stares while Chris catches his breath, his gaze wandering from the come on Chris's shirt to the softening cock in his hand.

Any reservations Chris had that Toby wouldn't be able to respond to him are put to rest when he sees the high flush on Toby's face and the size of the bulge in his pants. Chris reaches for him, grasping his arms, and tugging Toby toward him. Toby moves awkwardly, not understanding Chris wants until he says, "Come up here."

There's still too much hesitance as he crawls into Chris's lap, but he'll learn. Cupping the nape of Toby's neck, Chris draws him close, bringing his head down to his shoulder. He wants to watch Toby come, but Chris is sure that Toby isn't ready for that. He's pushed Toby far enough outside his boundaries for one night.

Toby's face feels hot against Chris's neck, and it goes even hotter when Chris works open his belt, pops open the snap, and pulls down the zipper of his pants. Getting a hand inside Toby's pants, he isn't surprised, and he's rather charmed to find plain white cotton boxers. Toby shudders every time Chris's hand brushes against his hard-on while getting his pants open and his boxers out of the way. When Chris takes his cock into his hand, Toby groans and clutches him hard.

It feels good to be held onto so desperately, to feel the way Toby's entire body tries to get closer. He smells fantastic, too: musky horny man scent under clean soap and a hint of cologne. Chris rubs his cheek against soft hair, as he squeezes the nape of Toby's neck, trying to calm him while he works at getting Toby where he wants to be as fast as he can.

Toby's groan when Chris finally gets his hand around his cock is deep and heartfelt. Pleased with what he's found, Chris strokes the thick length and finds the tip wet. Toby is delighted with the light caress, judging by the way he's squirming in Chris's lap.

He's not as happy when Chris grips his cock, then does nothing else. Chris grins while Toby breathes hard and nudges at him urgently. He doesn't quite understand what Chris wants until Chris murmurs approvingly when Toby rocks up into his hand. Still, he hesitates. Chris can almost hear him try to think it through, but finally, he gives in to what his body is demanding.

His first thrusts into Chris's hand aren't graceful. Toby whines in the back of his throat, shifts around, clutching at Chris's shoulders. He begins to move, his whole body committed to the act of getting off. Chris murmurs encouragement in his ear as Toby begins to thrust in earnest.

It feels so good that Chris almost regrets coming before Toby, although he loves being sated and calm while helping a partner finish off. He relishes every sound that Toby makes, the nearly bruising grip on his shoulders, and Toby's hot panting breath against his neck.

Then Toby starts to mouth at Chris's throat sending a jolt straight to his cock. There's no way that Chris can get it up again so soon, but that doesn't take away from the pleasure as Toby finds a hot spot and drags his teeth across it. Shuddering, Chris tightens his hand on Toby's neck and holds him right where he wants his mouth.

From this angle and with Toby so close, he can't see what Toby is doing, but he can feel every thrust, the silky length of Toby's cock sliding inside the firm grip of his hand. Toby is completely lost, mindlessly humping, the chair creaking under their weight.

The sounds Toby make are gratifying, especially because he's not fighting to stay quiet or trying to keep some kind of distance. He's completely into getting off, holding nothing back, and by the way he's grabbing at Chris, licking and nuzzling his neck, Toby is into him too.

With a last trembling breath, he falls apart, coming over Chris's hand in long, sticky spurts. Toby collapses against him, a warm, heavy weight that Chris is in no hurry to get rid of. Chris gives Toby plenty of time to get his wits back, and enjoys a deep satisfaction when Toby makes no move to get away.

So maybe Chris has pushed a boundary or two, but Toby is rolling with it. Maybe he'd roll with the next thing, too. With a gentle squeeze to Toby's neck, Chris pushes him up and away from his shoulder. Toby's hair is tousled, his lower lip puffy from the rasp of Chris's stubble. He blinks sleepy-eyed at Chris, then flushes bright pink.

Carefully pulling his hand from Toby's spent cock, Chris lifts it to Toby's mouth. "Lick," Chri orders.

He's looks so cute when he wrinkles his nose that Chris doesn't have the heart to be stern, not that he needs to be at this point. Chris waits patiently while Toby studies the come on Chris's hand. It takes him a few minutes, but finally he sticks his tongue out and takes a tentative lick. Chris hides his amusement when Toby draws back with a grimace.

"Lick," Chris tells him again, a bit more forcefully.

Toby visibly steels himself, then starts to lap at Chris's hand. He obviously has no idea that what he's doing is sexy as hell. He's not even trying to put on a show for Chris, he's just focused on the task. The sensible thing to do would be to simply lick up the come and get it over with, but instead continues to dab his tongue along the curve of Chris's hand, not knowing that a more experienced sub would be doing this as a tease. He has no idea how hot he is.

Chris can't resist him, and doesn't even know why he thought he had a choice in the first place. As he watches Toby lick up the last of his come, Chris knows he's going to accept Toby's plan, even though it's crazy as hell and will probably lead to trouble for both of them.

So what? When did he ever walk away from trouble in a pretty package?

---

Vince isn't an entrepreneur because he likes making tons of money, even though he does, but because he needs a creative outlet and a channel for his restless energies. For all that he looks like a spoiled cat lounging about waiting to be petted, deep down he's an alley cat, a survivor.

Chris rolls his eyes at Vince as the maitre d' seats him. Vince is at the center of the restaurant where everyone can view his sleek elegance and wonder if he's some kind of celebrity.

"Did we have to meet at Chez Frou Frou?" Chris asks. Vince laughs when the maitre d' snaps a menu down in front of Chris and, with an audible sniff, stalks away. Chris shakes his head. "Where do you find these people?"

Among other things, Vince is a collector of people. Chris was one of the first nearly two decades ago. At the time, Chris had thought he was doing Vince a favor, but he knows better now. Without Vince, Chris's life could have been an even bigger mess, and he doesn't like to speculate on where he'd be without Vince at his back.

"He matches the decor," Vince says, with an indolent wave of his hand.

Chris snorts softly as he looks around at Vince's newest restaurant. Everyone is dressed to the nines and Chris bets there isn't a single item on the menu for less than twenty-five bucks. He knows he's right when he opens it and discovers that there isn't a price listed anywhere.

"You're paying," he says.

Vince laughs, drawing attention from nearby tables. Men and women both are watching Vince with avid interest, but pretending not to. Chris gets some of the spillover; he knows he looks damn fine in the expensive suit Vince had insisted on buying for him. Vince would do a lot more if Chris would let him, but he'd learned a long time ago that he preferred earning his own way rather than riding Vince's coat-tails. It nearly ruined their friendship, once upon a time, and Chris had vowed to never let money come between them again.

A kick ass Armani suit, though, isn't something he would refuse.

Chris puts the menu aside and lets Vince order for him. They chat, and Vince flirts shamelessly, both of them knowing it won't go anywhere. In their early twenties, they'd made an honest attempt at turning their friendship into something more, but fortunately figured out they weren't right for each other before they could completely screw things up.

Vince is Chris's oldest and closest friend, going back to when they'd both been picked up by the law and turned over to the juvenile courts. At seventeen, Chris could have been tried as an adult, but someone upstairs must have been looking out for him, and Vince, too. He'd been sixteen, living on the streets, and peddling his ass. Being sent into the same program had saved both of them.

The atmosphere may be pretentiously upscale and the staff snooty enough to match, but this is Vince, and the food is damned good. As Chris tucks into the appetizer, he gives the place about a year before Vince gets tired of it and opens a retro-diner or a pizza parlor in a family neighborhood.

It's only when the main course arrives, some silly-looking pile of ingredients with shrimp sticking out all over the place, but delicious all the same, that Chris turns the conversation to the reason he's there.

"So tell me about Tobias Beecher."

Vince's fork stops halfway to his mouth and his eyebrows go up. Setting the fork down on the plate, he delicately dabs the corners of his mouth with his napkin. No longer in the mood for Vince's theatrics, Chris glares at him, then raises his eyebrow expectantly. Putting his napkin down, Vince gives Chris a thoughtful look.

"You know his full name."

"I think you knew I wouldn't be able to keep my distance with him."

"I didn't think you'd move so fast, though." The corners of his mouth twitch as he suppresses his evil smirk. It wouldn't do for the audience to see the real Vince. "I expected you to take things slow for a change."

"You should know me better than that. It's why I haven't been with anyone since Bonnie."

Shaking his head fondly, Vince says, "It's why you've been moping since Bonnie, you mean."

"I have not," Chris denies.

Vince's voice gentles. "Chris, you're no good on your own. You're not the kind of man who can be happily single. You're better when you have someone to share your life with."

"Tell that to my ex-wives."

Vince sniffs. "We both know Kitty was the biggest mistake of your life, and you have to admit you were happy with her until you found out what a backstabbing bitch she was. Angelique was your rebound marriage, but you had a hell of a lot of fun with her before she divorced you. And Bonnie... " Chris is the only one who knows Vince well enough to recognize the sadness under the flirty facade. "Bonnie was a good woman. She could have been the making of you, but she didn't have the backbone to put up with your bullshit."

Yeah, Bonnie had been the best of the three, but both times they'd been married, it hadn't taken long for boredom to set in. Boredom gets Chris into trouble faster than anything else.

Vince signals for another drink. "When I met Toby, I immediately thought of you. He looks like most of the men I've seen you chase. And he has all the best qualities of your exes: Kitty's brains, Angelique's fire, and Bonnie's sweetness."

The waiter brings a fresh drink and does his best to catch Vince's eye. Disappointed, he shoots Chris a withering glare before sashaying away. Vince takes a sip and moans appreciatively. "Best in the city," he says, taking another sip.

Not wanting to get sidetracked, Chris says, "He told me he's an alcoholic. He has some crazy idea that a Dom is what he needs to keep him out of the bottle."

Ever unflappable, Vince sets his drink down gently, but Chris can tell that he's bothered. "That's a new one, even for me. And I've heard everything."

"So you didn't know about the alcoholism?"

"No, I didn't." Vince frowns. "I've had drinks with him a few times. Oh, and a couple of business lunches. He's always had cocktails, several of them."

"What about the last time you talked to him?"

"Now that I think about it, it was odd that he had asked for iced tea with his lunch." Vince took another sip of his drink. "He seemed so distracted and unhappy, and he told me he was getting divorced when I asked what was wrong."

"So how did I come into the conversation?"

"He kept talking about changing his life, about focus and discipline. I admit, I kept drawing him out. I was interested in him myself there, for a while." Vince made a sad little moue with his lips. "It turns out, he isn't my type, but he's exactly what you need, and he could use a little stress relief himself. So I set up the appointment."

"You figured I needed an alcoholic who's never been involved in the scene, never been tied up, and has never been with a man before?"

Vince is surprised enough that it actually shows. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope. Some drunken groping in college, and that's about it."

Uncharacteristically, Vince takes a gulp of his drink. And then another. "I must need my gaydar examined. I swear, he looked like he was about to eat me alive the last time we met."

The twinge that Chris feels at the thought of how Vince might have gotten his hands on Toby first isn't pretty. He doesn't like the idea that Toby might have been interested in Vince, either. He covers it up by waving over the waiter to take their plates away. While the waiter clears the table and vies for Vince's attention, Chris takes the time to sternly get himself in line. Vince is his friend, Toby is just a client.

When the waiter finally disappears, Chris is back in control. "Nothing wrong with your gaydar. Toby did just fine at our meeting."

Vince's brows go up, a faint trace of disapproval marring his pretty boy act. "You had sex with him?"

Chris already knows he fucked up, he doesn't need a lecture from Vince, so he shrugs. "I needed to know if he could function with a man. If he could even function as a sub. Some guys can't, even if they're curious and think they can."

"Don't try and teach your mother to suck eggs. I know that. It still doesn't excuse your behavior."

Vince straightens in his chair, his eyes steady on Chris as the frivolous veneer falls away to reveal the steel core underneath, "It was only supposed to be an interview. You had no business involving him in a scene when I had warned you that he was inexperienced."

"It wasn't a scene." Chris leans forward, lowering his voice when he notices that far too many people around them are not so discreetly trying to listen in. They aren't exactly at the most private table in the room. Chris waves Vince forward so they can keep their voices down. "It wasn't a scene. It was just sex."

That doesn't appease Vince at all. "I don't care what you call it. You know better. I don't care how long you've been out of the business. You know perfectly well how to conduct yourself."

"We talked. We had sex. It's not like I committed a crime."

"Did you come to an agreement first?"

Chris hesitates a moment too long. Vince's hand shoots out and he grabs Chris's forearm. "So no agreement. And I bet no rules. I should send you to Master Kenneth for that."

The waiter approaches with a basket of rolls. He takes one look at Vince's face, turns around, and hurries off, basket still in hand.

"I don't need a refresher." Chris really, really doesn't want a visit with Master Kenneth. The best defense is a good offense. "Anyway, you were wrong about him. You didn't get all the facts before you sent him to me. Did you know he almost killed someone?"

Vince isn't buying Chris's line, but he tilts his head and eases back enough to give Chris room to either convince him he didn't completely fuck up, or hang himself.

"There was an accident. Beecher almost killed a kid. That's when he realized he was an alcoholic. He's making a lot of changes in his life, including getting a divorce."

Vince's mask is firmly back in place, so only Chris can see that he's still not happy. "I had no idea he was such a mess. I figured he was going through the standard mid-life crisis and could have a little something to show for it after he went back to his wife."

Chris tries not to scowl at his friend, but he knows he isn't entirely successful. "Gee, thanks Vince. I appreciate you setting me up with a guy who you think is going to dump me as soon as he gets his ya-yas out."

Vince isn't in the least repentant. "Oh, please. You told me yourself that you weren't ready for anything long-term. Toby seemed perfect for you: the hair, the eyes, the smell of old money that new money can't buy, that clean look that makes you want to dirty him up, the-- " Vince stops mid-sentence, his surprise great enough that his mouth hangs half-open. He's been playing games and wearing masks long enough that it's not a bad look on him. "Damn. I'm good."

"What are you talking about?" Chris demands.

"I need to consider a new line of work; I'm way too good at this one."

"Still not following."

Vince is too lost in thought to care that the waiter is clearing their table. Chris orders coffee and dessert, then shoos the waiter off.

Vince sighs. "I didn't think it through. I picked Toby for you because I thought he'd be a fun interlude for you while you got your life back together."

"My life is fine, Vince." None of this is new, but it's no less irritating.

"You've been wallowing, Chris."

"That's your opinion."

"My expert opinion."

Chris never could win an argument with Vince, especially with his policy of always getting in the last word. Vince is very pleased with himself, cooing and fussing prettily over the fresh coffee and cheesecake that the waiter deposits in front of him. Chris's cheesecake ends up at the edge of the table where the waiter slaps it down, too busy preening and flirting with Vince to care if it ends up on the floor.

Having little appetite for it, Chris grabs the dessert before it can fall and puts it in front of him. He finally gets tired of the dance Vince has going on with the waiter, so he kicks at Vince's leg under the table. Squeaking, Vince sits bolt upright in his chair, then glares at Chris. The waiter glares too, until Chris looks him in the eye and lets him get a glimpse of the temper he usually keeps leashed. The waiter whooshes away like he'd never been there.

"I don't need you to run my life," Chris says.

"Who would want such a thankless job?" Vince says, with a smirk.

Sighing, Chris knows he's not going to get anything sensible out of Vince, so he drinks his coffee and takes a couple of bites of dessert. Vince returns to flirting and showing off for the other diners, but Chris really isn't in the mood.

They leave the restaurant together and Chris walks Vince to his Mercedes-Benz. Before Vince gets in, he gives Chris a soft peck on the lips. "Do you want me to cancel your next appointment with Toby?"

"No!" Chris steps back, uncomfortable with his own reaction. "Look, he's different."

"No he isn't," Vince says opening the door of his car. "You just want him to be."

Before Chris can protest, Vince is in his car, slamming the door. He gives Chris a bright smile through the closed window as he backs the car out of the parking space.

As usual, Vince gets the last word.

---

Chris has had a lot of time to think about Toby and about Toby's needs, about what he can give Toby, and maybe what Toby can give him. Vince was right to be angry. Chris had broken a lot of rules that were there for both Chris's and Toby's protection.

They'd gotten off to a good start with Toby being honest during their first meeting, or at least trying to be. He might not have known exactly what he wanted, but he'd been up front about it. None of Chris's exes, wives or not, had been entirely honest with him, some lying outright to his face or going behind his back. Bonnie had come the closest, never lying, but always playing the sulking game, driving Chris crazy trying to figure out what was wrong while she would never come out and tell him. Holding back is another form of lying, he's done enough of it himself to know. He knows a thing or two about sins of omission.

Putting aside his thoughts of that first meeting, he decides the best way to start is to lay some ground rules for Toby to follow. Most of them will be easy enough, but after one meeting he can already tell that some of them are going to be a problem. Toby might be curious, even eager, to explore the sexual aspect of their arrangement, but that doesn't mean he's not going to be a handful.

Chris is already sprawled comfortably on the couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table, belt removed and stowed in his duffel bag. Toby isn't ready for any of the toys in there, but there are still a couple of items that might come in handy.

When Toby arrives, he's out of breath, carrying his briefcase and still wearing a business suit. He's rumpled, rushed, and worried, but all that disappears when he sees Chris. His smile is shy but heartfelt as he stands in the doorway for a long moment staring.

It's been a long time since anyone has been genuinely happy to see Chris and he can't help smiling back as Toby finally shakes himself and comes into the room.

"Get comfortable," Chris says. He gestures at the place next to him, then lets his arm drop along the back of the couch. "Make yourself at home."

Toby just seems to relax all at once, his shoulders coming down and the tightness disappearing from his face. He drops his briefcase, shucks out of his coat and tie, and sits down to remove his shoes and socks. Chris takes note of Toby's happy sigh as he wiggles his toes. At some point, he'll have to find out just how sensitive Toby's feet are.

When Toby stands up, he unfastens the top few buttons on his shirt, then he rolls up his sleeves, watching Chris all the while. Chris nods in approval, which gets him another one of those smiles that absolutely does not make him warm up inside. Not at all.

It's all brand new, so Chris doesn't entirely know what Toby's going to do next, but Toby sitting down right next to Chris, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and laying his head on Chris's shoulder is completely unexpected. An arm goes around Chris's waist and Toby snugs their bodies even closer.

"I've been looking forward to this all day," Toby says with a deep sigh.

Staring over the top of Toby's head at the empty room, Chris searches for a clue, because this isn't at all what he had planned for the evening. The vague outline of an idea, taking the first steps teaching Toby to obey without fuss or question, gets thrown out the proverbial window.

Chris shrugs and drops his arm around Toby's shoulders, pulling him even closer. He's never had a client, or anyone else, throw him so many curve balls, especially ones that feel so good. Toby will keep him on his toes, so it's a damned good thing that Chris is good at winging it. He'll probably be doing a lot of that for as long as he's with Toby.

He can't keep the amusement out of his voice. "Rough day?"

"Mmmm, yeah." It doesn't seem possible, but Toby manages to shift closer. "I think I hate my job."

"You think?" Toby's hair smells really good. Chris rubs his cheek against it. Soft.

"I don't know what to do about it. I've never done anything else."

"You should think about it. You're changing everything else in your life."

"I guess I should, but I don't think I'm ready to make another major change in my life, yet."

"No one said you had to. You've got time."

Toby is quiet for a long time. "I don't think I do. I feel like I'm running out of time and I don't know why."

Suddenly, Chris feels it too. A sense of foreboding weighs heavy in the pit of his stomach and his arm tightens instinctively around Toby's shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Chris pushes the feeling away because it doesn't make any sense. It's stupid to feel like the end is coming when they've only just started.

"Everybody keeps thinking this is a mid-life crisis, and that I'll go back to the way things were once I get the brand new sports car and the affair with a beautiful blond out of the way."

"How about a hot brunet instead?"

Toby is so close that Chris feels the vibration of his laughter. "Guess I better start looking for a sports car."

They sit quietly for a while. It feels so good to hold someone, to be held in return. It's been so long since Chris enjoyed something so simple and yet so necessary, and it bothers him that he's getting it from this virtual stranger. Maybe it shouldn't. At least Toby knows what he needs and is reaching out for it.

"I can't go back," Toby murmurs against Chris's collarbone. This is true, but Chris wants to hear what Toby has to say about it. "Do you mind if I talk about my wife?"

Squeezing his shoulders, Chris says, "Go ahead. I don't mind."

It still takes a while before Toby speaks again. "My youngest son is nearly a year old. I haven't touched Gen since she got pregnant."

When the implications sink in, Chris tenses. He has to ask. "There hasn't been anyone else?"

"Of course not," Toby says, irritated. "I never cheated on her." He adds, "I started divorce proceedings right after I moved out. It's over, even if the paperwork isn't finished."

"And you didn't... go to someone else before you met me?"

"No, I was too busy dealing with moving out, and work, and quitting drinking. I never thought about anything like this until I talked to Vince."

Chris doesn't like the unreasonable surge of jealousy at the mention of Vince, but even worse, he hates that Vince was right. Chris had fucked up by breaking the rules. Nearly two years of celibacy and the first sex Toby gets is a lousy handjob. So starved for touch, he's like a stray cat, twining around Chris, greedy for any attention.

He mentally kicks himself for letting last week's interview go places it shouldn't have, especially when he didn't have all the facts. Then again, he hadn't wanted to know any more, too busy treating this arrangement like all the others before. Fuck, maybe he does need a refresher course with Master Kenneth.

The sooner he gets it through his head that Toby is different, the better off they'll both be. Last week's mess was his own fault, and there will be no excuse for losing control this time.

Toby shifts restlessly and Chris immediately moves his hand to the nape of Toby's neck, massaging lightly. Toby positively melts at the touch, making soft contented noises as he goes boneless against Chris.

They are practically strangers, barely more than a one night stand, and yet Toby clings to him like a lifeline. Damn if Chris doesn't find himself wanting it, wanting someone - Toby - to need him. He likes the way Toby feels against him, and the way he came to Chris for comfort after a long day at work. It's been a long time, and it feels good, which means he's probably going to regret it before it's all over.

He already has one regret and he's needs to remedy it. Gently, he nudges Toby away so he can see his face. There's a faint crease along Toby's cheek, an impression from Chris's shirt. He traces it with his fingertips, his heart thumping hard against his breastbone at the way Toby immediately turns his cheek into Chris's hand.

"Do we have to stop now?" Toby asks, plaintively.

"Only if you want to take it into the bedroom." The curve of Toby's smile feels good against his palm.

Regretfully, Toby gets up and takes Chris's hand, pulling him up from the couch. He walks backwards to the bedroom, tugging Chris along, eyeing him, curious, greedy and shy all at the same time.

Chris has a plan. He's going to give Toby what he should have gotten if Chris had asked more questions and waited until after their first meeting, but he likes that Toby's taking the initiative. Once in the bedroom, Toby goes for Chris's shirt, pulling it off and then stopping to stare at Chris's chest like he's never seen one before. He flushes bright red, but he doesn't look away, and Chris is fine with Toby enjoying the scenery.

Toby's attention is captured by the tattoo on Chris's arm and he touches it, obviously fascinated. "It's beautiful," he says. He meets Chris's eyes. "You're beautiful."

The raw honesty loosens something inside of Chris. Taking Toby's face in his hands, he kisses him, throwing away technique in favor of pure passion. Toby eagerly welcomes his tongue, moaning softly as the kiss deepens. When Chris breaks away, Toby licks his lips as if Chris's taste lingers there.

Toby puts his hands over Chris's where they are still cupping his face. "I didn't think it would feel like that to kiss a man."

Chris realizes that he's just kissed Toby for the first time. "How did it feel?"

Toby smiles sweetly, his expression shy, and he looks so damn vulnerable. "Perfect."

Who can resist that? Chris kisses him again, soft and teasing, letting one kiss blend into another and then another. Toby lets Chris take the lead, though he's anything but passive. When Chris presses for a deeper kiss, Toby lets him in, sucking on his tongue.

His arms go around Toby without any thought on his part. When he pulls Toby close, body to body, Toby's hands come to rest on his shoulders, squeezing and releasing in the rhythm of their kisses. When Toby pulls back, he's breathing hard, his eyes wild.

Toby reaches for Chris's zipper, but Chris gently pushes his hands away and takes charge. He quickly strips Toby out of his shirt, then peels off t-shirt underneath. He slides his arms around Toby and pulls him in, loving his gasp when their bare chests press together. Toby wraps his arms around Chris and hangs on, trembling a little. "Take it easy," Chris murmurs, as he nuzzles at Toby's cheek, finds his mouth again, and kisses him.

He keeps Toby distracted as he gets them both out of their pants. Toby loses more of his inhibitions as his clothes come off. Deftly, Chris maneuvers them over to the bed. Toby's hands are all over Chris, his mouth hot against Chris's throat and shoulder. Appreciative little noises accompany every eager lick of Toby's tongue, and he's not the only one getting distracted. Chris throws the blankets back, and tumbles Toby onto the bed.

Chris gets a good look at Toby naked, sprawled out on the bed, blinking up at him in surprise. He has a sturdy build, nicely muscled arms, strong thighs, and a sleek cock curving over his belly, everything that Chris likes.

Toby tries to sit up, reaching for him, but Chris crawls onto the bed until he is on his hands and knees hovering over Toby, looking down into his face. Slowly, he smiles, gazing into Toby's eyes. "Hey," he says softly, then lowers his hips until their cocks touch.

"Oh, god," Toby gasps.

"I know," Chris says, his smile turning into a smirk.

He undulates his hips, rubbing their cocks together, an exquisite tease for both of them. He's had all of five minutes of control, when Toby reaches up, hauling him down for a kiss. One of Toby's hands firmly grips Chris's neck, the other roams over his back and side, a leg wraps around his hip.

Chris had plans for Toby, was going to drive him crazy, make him beg, then blow him, but it's clear that Toby's not going to lie back and take it. His moans are soft, but constant, as he kisses the breath out of Chris. His hands don't stop moving, touching every part of Chris that they can. When Toby's hand squeezes Chris's ass, he knows he can either fight Toby for control, or hang on for the ride.

It's a no-brainer. He can blow Toby some other time. At the moment, Toby seems intent on touching every inch of Chris's skin with every inch of his own. With the leg hitched around Chris's hip, Toby pulls Chris against him while grinding up, cocks sliding rhythmically between them. His other leg hooks behind Chris's thigh as though he's afraid that Chris might try to get away, not that anything short of a police raid could make him leave.

Toby is acting more on need and instinct than anything else, which isn't bad thing, but Chris wants to make this experience really good. He licks at Toby's throat, finds a tender spot, and bites down gently.

The reaction is instantaneous: the arms and legs wrapped around him suddenly clutch hard enough that Chris can't move, can hardly breathe. Toby's moans turn into a soft whine as he throws his head back, giving Chris better access. He takes advantage, kissing and lightly sucking, until he gets to the top of Toby's shoulder, biting down again.

Fuck, Toby is noisy! Chris keeps biting and sucking, making Toby buck frantically against him, their cocks pressed snug between their bodies. Toby's legs are strong, Chris can barely move, but Toby doesn't seem to care. He's pumping his hips fast enough for the both of them, building a sweet, irresistible friction, their cocks sliding through the warm, sweat-slick space between their bellies.

Chris tangles his fingers in Toby's hair, and tilts his face so they can kiss. Their tongues tangle for a moment, then Chris takes Toby's lower lip in his mouth, dragging his teeth across the tender flesh.

Toby's groan so loudly that Chris feels it rumble through his own chest. He finally finds enough leverage to thrust against Toby. The rhythm's not quite right, but it still feels so damn good. The sharp pleasure-pain of Toby's nails digging into his back only adds to the intensity as Toby comes. He's beautiful, completely lost in his pleasure. The sight is enough to make Chris give up the last of his control and give himself up to sensations coursing through him.

---

Like most men, Chris wants nothing more than to sleep after sex. Curled against his side, Toby's warm and heavy next to him, and the slow rhythm of his breathing sends Chris into a light doze. An internal alarm rouses him later, he doesn't like sleeping in a strange place, and he rubs at his tired eyes. Toby grumbles at the movement, clutching at Chris, and makes a good effort to keep him pinned to the mattress.

"Toby," he says, shaking him gently, "Wake up." Chris glances at the bedside clock. "It's nearly one in the morning."

Shaking him doesn't seem work, as it only makes Toby mutter unintelligibly and burrow closer. It takes Chris's hand stroking through his hair, then over his shoulders, and down his body to finally rouse him. Stretching and yawning, Toby rolls onto his back and blinks his eyes open. "That's a nice way to wake up," he says, sitting up.

He looks good, sleep tousled and sexy, with the sheets bunched around his hips. Toby is nicely muscled, but not overly so. He probably hits the gym a couple hours a week and the golf course on the weekends. There is the overall softness of a man who spends too much time behind a desk. That observation gives Chris another thought about the rules Toby will learn to follow.

Chris gets out of bed and grabs his jeans from the floor. "Get dressed. We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous. Did I do something wrong?"

Toby looks more confused than worried, still not quite awake. "No, but it's late and I've got work in the morning."

Chris has Toby's full attention. "Another client?"

"That's none of your business," Chris replies, pulling his shirt on. "But no, my real job."

Toby's mouth quirks. "Good to know I'm not your real job."

In answer, Chris picks Toby's pants up and throws them at him, hitting Toby right in the face. Chris laughs. When Toby yanks them out of the way, he's glaring at Chris.

"Get dressed," he repeats, as he walks into the main room, pulling his shirt over his head/ Choosing the chair next to the table rather than the sofa, Chris sits down and waits.

Toby is yawning and doing up the last two buttons on his shirt when he comes out of the bedroom. He pauses when he spots Chris sitting in the same chair as the week before. Stifling another yawn, he asks, "Do you want me to kneel?"

"No, sit down. We have some rules to discuss."

While Toby sits and rubs sleepily at his eyes, Chris studies him, trying to see what Vince had seen. Toby is exactly what Vince had described, and he's exactly Chris's type. Slouching in his chair, hair rumpled from the pillow, still smelling of sex, Toby is just as enticing as when he'd first walked through the door a week ago.

The attraction is still there, warming Chris's skin and pooling low in his belly. He wants to take Toby back into the bedroom, strip him naked, and curl around him until morning when Chris can give him another lesson in giving blowjobs.

Shaking himself, Chris says, "Are Thursday nights good for you?"

Toby nods. "It's the only night of the week I know I can make it. I pick the kids up on the weekends to stay with me, so weekends are out. And I work late most weekdays, bringing paperwork home, sometimes taking clients out to dinner." He smiles a little. "I told my assistant to keep my Thursday nights clear."

Even though technically, Chris had screwed up their first meeting, Toby had enjoyed it enough that he decided to keep his Thursday nights open for Chris. So he didn't have to do anything to impress Toby this time around, but he's glad he did.

"Thursday nights it is, then." They smile at each other for a moment, and then Chris gets them back on track. "Vince will send you the account number for my fees. Has he already talked to you about that?"

"Yeah," Toby says, looking uncomfortable. "Do I owe you for last week."

Last week should have been strictly an interview. Chris hesitates to ask for a fee, but it was his mistake, so he shrugs. "No. Not for last week."

Toby nods.

"Do you want to talk about your drinking?"

"Talking about it makes me want to do it," Toby says, and he looks surprised at the admission.

Chris nods. "I know what you mean. I've had a few bad habits of my own I had to get under control."

Toby brightens when the focus moves away from him. "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe you have some advice that might help."

"This isn't about me, it's about you." Chris smiles, avoiding Toby's gambit.

Toby frowns. "Yes it is about you. It's about both of us. I chose you so I wouldn't have to go through this alone."

For some reason, that puts a lump in Chris's throat. He doesn't want to feel this way about Toby, but he can't help but sympathize with a man who feels so alone that he has no other option than to pay for companionship.

He touches Toby's knee. "You're right. You're not alone any more."

Toby covers Chris's hand with his own and gives a light squeeze. "I'm always second-guessing myself, but this is the first time, in a long time, that I haven't had second thoughts about a decision."

They sit quietly for a few minutes, then Toby stands up abruptly. "I have something for you."

Picking up his jacket, Toby takes something out of the pocket. When he returns to his chair, he hands Chris a cell phone. "I bought it so I can call you when I need to. And you can call me too," he adds, waving an identical model in his other hand. "I already programmed the numbers in."

Chris looks it over. It's an expensive phone. "I already have one. I don't need a new one."

"But you'll know it's me, and..." Toby looks away, then shifts uncomfortably. "I don't want you to turn it off, or put it away somewhere. I need to be able to reach you."

Chris isn't sure he likes that idea. He starts to hand the phone back but Toby stops him by curling his hand around Chris's, pressing the phone into his palm.

"I swear I won't abuse this privilege. I'll only call if it's an emergency or if you ask me to call you. I just-- I really need this from you."

Chris hesitates. Usually, he limits contact with his subs, forcing them to go through Vince if they want to talk to him. He doesn't need a whiny, needy sub calling him at all hours. However, like in everything else, Toby is different. Chris doubts that Toby will be calling him for help with stupid decisions he can make for himself, or to be ordered around, or for the attention.

"Okay." Chris shoves the phone into his pocket. "Emergencies only. The first time you call me to help you decide if you should wear the blue suit or the gray suit, I'm throwing it away."

Any other sub would have pouted at him, but Toby looks amused. "Don't worry, I've been dressing myself since I was a kid. It's one of those necessary life lessons, like eating without getting food on your shirt, or saying thank you when your grandmother gives you an ugly sweater for Christmas."

Chris chuckles, but it's getting late and he really needs to move their discussion along.

"All right. Your first rule is that you go to one AA meeting every week."

Toby wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I can do that."

"You will be rewarded for going to more, and you'll be punished for not going at all. Nothing will happen if you only go to one meeting."

Toby sighs. "Fine."

"You'll also meet with your sponsor once a week."

Toby grimaces this time. "I guess I can do that."

"You guess?" Chris asks, sharply.

"Yes, I'll do it," Toby replies quickly.

"Good."

"How will you know if I don't follow the rules."

"I'll ask you when I see you."

Toby's brows go up. "That's it? You ask and you expect me to tell the truth?"

"Do you plan on lying?"

"Of course not."

"Then there won't be a problem."

Chris glances at his watch. If he leaves now, he might get a full five hours of sleep before he has to go to work.

Toby leans forward to look at Chris's watch. "Damn, I have a meeting in the morning."

"Then let's get on with the rest of it." Toby settles back in his chair, paying close attention to Chris. "When you come in, you'll take off your shoes and prepare yourself like the first time. Then you'll kneel at my feet and wait for further instructions."

"Wait," Toby says, worried. "Did I do it wrong this time? I didn't kneel."

"You didn't know." And that was Chris's fault. "If I'm not here first, kneel beside the couch until I arrive."

Toby seems to be mulling over his new orders over. A faint trace of pink stains his cheeks. "Was it wrong for me to sit on the couch with you?"

Chris doesn't want to be charmed by this man: Toby's in his thirties, yet he looks like a little boy caught doing something naughty. Damned if he doesn't want to pull Toby into his lap and pet him until they're both ready for a second round.

To keep himself from doing anything stupid, Chris flattens his hands against his thighs. "I told you to make yourself at home. You did fine."

"I crossed a line, didn't I?" Toby makes an exasperated noise and runs a hand through his hair. "It's just been a rotten day. My dad called me into his office again for another lecture about my responsibilities. And my mother wants me and the kids to stay with them for the weekend, but I'd already made other plans-- " Embarrassed, Toby stops. "God, I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."

"I don't expect you to be." Chris begins to reassess the rules for Toby. Not only is it obvious that he craves simple human contact, but he needs someone to talk to. Chris likes the idea of spending some time together on the couch before they get into anything serious, so he makes a mental note to give them both a chance to unwind.

"All right. Next Thursday I'll start you on some easy commands."

Toby shifts uncomfortably, but he nods in agreement.

"We'll talk more next time." It's enough for one night. Chris still has definite ideas about what he wants for Toby, like making him go to the gym regularly, but he can cover that another time.

They get up and gather their things. At the door, Chris takes Toby's arm impulsively and holds him back. He kisses Toby softly, nothing meant to arouse either of them. When he pulls away, Toby's eyes are closed, his lips parted on a sigh.

Chris opens the door and gets out of there fast.

---

The next few meetings follow the same pattern. Chris always arrives first, sets up the room the way he that he wants it, and then sits on the couch, waiting. Toby manages to arrive with a few minutes to spare, but he's never late. He's always happy to see Chris, visibly relaxing as soon as he gets in.

Toby doesn't object to kneeling in front of Chris while being asked if he's gone to AA meetings or if he's seen his sponsor. It's a part of the routine that solidifies as they get to know each other, or at least as Chris gets to know Toby. After the questions, Chris gestures for Toby to get on the couch and curl against him. He wraps his arms around Toby and encourages him to talk.

Toby asks questions about Chris, but he deflects them, or gives brief answers that are unsatisfactory to Toby. He doesn't call Chris on it, though. He's quiet sometimes, just wanting to be held. Sometimes the holding turns into more and they never make it into the bedroom.

Chris always plans to do more, wants to bring out the collar and leash, the cuffs, the toys, but he never does. They stay packed in the duffel bag. The sex is good. It's not like anything he's ever had with a man before. Women, yes. Men? No. With men it was always about the money, the games, and the scene.

He doesn't want to think about what it means. Or maybe he already knows, but doesn't want to admit it.

Toby seems satisfied with the relationship that they have, and he doesn't push Chris to take more control. On the surface, the arrangement appears to be working fine, bu Chris isn't a bright-eyed optimist. He knows that eventually, something will give.

---

When Toby comes in, he gets comfortable as usual, his preparations already a comfortable routine. There is no awkwardness when he kneels at Chris's feet, just calm expectation as they start their usual ritual.

"Did you talk to your sponsor?"

The man is a lawyer, a trained liar, yet Chris can see the guilt when he lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. Toby shakes his head. Apparently, Toby picked this Thursday night to blow the routine.

"Did you go to any meetings?"

A little irritation mixed with the guilt. "No. I didn't."

Chris keeps his own expression bland, his voice mild. He knows he's wading into dangerous waters; whatever this thing is with Toby, it's well out of his experience, and beyond common sense. He would laugh at himself for falling into the same old pattern of getting into fucked up relationships if it wasn't too damned painful.

"Wanna tell me why?"

Toby has a smart answer, Chris can tell, but Toby snaps his mouth shut and lets himself think. That, at least, is a good sign.

"I hate going to the meetings."

Chris nudges Toby's knee with his foot. "Tell me why."

He huffs in irritation, then shrugs. "I hate that it reminds me that I'm an alcoholic. It makes me think about what a fuck up I am, a failure. It makes me wonder how I let this happen to me, how I got to this point. Mostly, I hate that the meetings make me feel like alcoholism is the only important thing to know about me."

Chris officially admits to himself that he's in way over his head. "Isn't this something you should discuss with your sponsor?"

"I guess."

Toby squirms uncomfortably under Chris's scrutiny. The hell of it is, he isn't being defiant or rebellious. At some point, every sub tries to push at the boundaries to see what they can get away with, or how far they can push their Dom. For some, it's a way to get attention, or to get a much needed punishment. For others, it's a need for the safety and security that a Dom can provide. For a few, it's an opportunity to show their submission.

It's none of these things for Toby. The little shit isn't playing some kind of subby game, one that Chris can respond to with the appropriate punishment to everyone's satisfaction. Toby is telling the truth, he just didn't want to talk to his sponsor or go to any meetings. No easily uncovered motive here since Toby laid it all out in the open.

It doesn't change anything. Toby came to him so he could face the consequences when he fucked up. It doesn't matter that he didn't break the rules as a sub wanting attention or a need for discipline from his Dom.

It was always inevitable, but Toby himself chose the timing.

"Get up and go to the bedroom. I want to find you sitting on the bed when I get in there."

"You don't want me kneeling on the floor?"

"Did I say that?" Chris taps Toby's knee with his toe. "Do what I tell you."

Reluctantly, Toby gets up, casting uncertain glances at Chris as he disappears into the bedroom. Chris sits quietly for a moment, and comes to a decision that he doesn't really like. Frowning, Chris realizes that he's not going to give Toby what he really deserves for breaking the rules.

Toby's had plenty of time to sit and figure out how badly he's fucked up, so Chris gets up and gets on with the plan.

Expression contrite, Toby looks up when Chris enters the room. He hasn't known Toby long, but he instinctively knows this is fake. Toby isn't the least sorry, but he's used those big eyes and that false regret to wiggle out of every punishment he's ever deserved.

"Chris, I-- "

"Did I tell you to speak?" Chris is irritated, but he shoves it away. It isn't the time to let his real emotions through. Anyway, Chris has handled subs who were a lot more experienced and a lot trickier than Toby will ever be.

"I'm sorry. I-- "

"Keep silent."

Toby bites his lip and ducks his head, still trying to look sorry. Inwardly, Chris smiles, because it isn't hard for him to see that Toby is really annoyed and trying not to show it. Probably the first time he hasn't gotten away with his usual bullshit.

Chris stands in front of Toby and stares thoughtfully down on his bent head. What he's going to do is the right choice. There needs to be some kind of gesture, something that will break through all the clever walls and defenses and have real impact. This is going to hurt both of them, and Chris hates the idea that he's going to pay just as much as Toby for his mistake.

"Get on your knees." This is the first time he's ordered Toby to his knees since he gave Toby his rules.

Toby looks relieved as he slides to his knees. He probably thinks the worst that's going to happen is an apology blowjob. Chris nearly snorts out loud, because that couldn't be farther from the mark.

"I'm leaving."

Chris turns and heads toward the door.
He hears Toby scramble across the floor, then feels a yank on his jeans as Toby grabs onto him. Turning, Chris deliberately tugs his leg out of Toby's grasp.

"Chris, what are you doing? Where are you going?" He asks, shocked.

"You don't get it, do you?" Chris says. "I guess I'll have to explain it then." He lightly strokes Toby's hair and has to stiffen his resolve at the way Toby immediately responds to the touch.

"You only have a few basic rules, Toby. It's only been a few weeks and you're already breaking them. You don't get great sex when you break the rules. You don't get me when you break the rules."

Chris tries to turn and go, but Toby's hand shoots out and grabs his pants leg again. Patiently, he pulls away and raises a warning finger at Toby.

"Wait, Chris. Let me make it up to you." He reaches for Chris's zipper.

Backing away, Chris says, "You don't get to touch me. Right now, you don't deserve to make me come." Chris snaps his fingers when Toby tries to speak. "I'm leaving now. Don't try to stop me, or it will be two weeks before you see me again."

Chris's last glimpse of Toby as he turns away is of Toby sitting back on his heels, obviously shaken. Good. Maybe he'll start using his head. One of them has to, because Chris can't help but wonder if he is doing anything right.

---

He gets a call from Toby the next night.

"I hate that you walked out on me," he grumbles.

"Have you been to any meetings?"

"Yes, yes," Toby huffs, clearly annoyed. "I skipped lunch to go to a meeting at that church on Bellwood."

"That's good, Toby," Chris says, approvingly.

Chris puts his dirty plate in the dishwasher, then eyes the beer still sitting on his kitchen table. He really wants the beer, but it just feels weird drinking it while talking to Toby on the phone, so he pours the last couple of swallows down the sink and puts the bottle in the recycling bin.

"Don't talk to me like a dog, Chris. I don't need a pat on the head."

"Rewards and punishments. You deserve a pat on the head."

He knows he's being an ass, but then again, so is Toby. He kind of likes it.

"Well, I didn't like yesterday's punishment."

"You weren't supposed to, dumbass."

Toby laughs. "Okay, fine, I deserved it. I still don't like it." His voice goes low in Chris's ear. "I miss you."

It's stupid, but Chris suddenly feels a hundred pounds lighter, and in a lot better mood than he was a couple hours ago when he got home from work.

"I miss you too," he admits. It's only been a few weeks, but he already looks forward to seeing Toby every Thursday night. Walking out yesterday had been hard, but it was the right thing to do. "Don't make me punish you again, Toby. I don't like it."

"I'm sorry," he says, and Chris can tell he really means it.

Wandering into the living room, he realizes his plans for the evening no longer includes beer and tv. "I have an idea," he says, heading for the bedroom.

"An idea?"

Grinning, he flops down on the bed and makes himself comfortable. "Yeah, something to hold us over until we see each other again." He reaches down and rubs his already hardening cock through his jeans. "So, Toby. What are you wearing?"

---

It feels like a lot more than a week since the last time they saw each other. Doesn't matter that Toby called him three times, each ending with Chris sprawled on the bed, panting and coming his brains out with Toby whispering filthy suggestions into his ear. Being a lawyer, Toby is good with words, and the pictures he painted onto Chris's imagination had made him come so hard, yet ache so badly for the real thing.

As usual, Chris gets to the room first, sets up the room the way he wants, and sits on the couch to wait. His muscles jump under his skin every time he hears a noise out in the hallway. He had showered earlier, but he's too warm and he's already starting to sweat a little.

When Toby arrives, Chris wants to get up and shove him against the wall and do him right there. Instead, he opens his arms in a mute command. Toby drops everything right there and hurries to his embrace.

"Don't do that again," Chris growls, nuzzling his face against Toby's hair.

"I won't," Toby says. His reply is fervent, but Chris has to push away his doubts.

---

The vibration of the cell phone against his hipbone is unexpected but not unwelcome. It's the phone that Toby gave him, and he's never called Chris at work before. Turning off the welding torch, he hastily shoves off the mask and gloves and tosses them onto the nearby workbench.

"Yeah?" he says, feeling strangely breathless.

"Chris! Thank god! I'm going crazy!"

Glancing around, Chris is relieved to see that Jeffers and Ronnie are too busy working on their project to notice him slipping out of the shop. Closing the door to the break room, Chris listens to Toby's panicked breathing.

"Okay, take a deep breath and tell me what's going on. Are you hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Toby says, sounding distracted. "I'm at a lunch meeting with some clients. And my dad." Toby pauses and Chris can hear him taking a deep breath. "Dad made a big deal out of me drinking club soda, I wanted to kill him. The clients aren't exactly thrilled about it either, but I can't exactly say that I'm an alcoholic, can I." Toby takes another breath. "Jesus Christ, everyone in the whole restaurant is drinking wine with their meals or having cocktails. All I want to do is lunge across the table and grab the martini out of my client's hand. I want a drink so bad, Chris, I think putting my head through the wall would be less painful."

"Okay, okay, settle down." Toby's urgency pushes Chris's protective buttons, but he knows he has to keep a level head. He's agreed to this responsibility and he damn well isn't going to drop the ball the first time he is tested.

"Listen, take one sip and you won't like what I'll do to you." Chris relaxes, liking the level of menace in his own voice. He can do this.

That seems to get Toby's attention. "What will you do to me?"

"I'll start by bending you over. I'll make sure you won't be sitting down to any lunch meetings for a week."

"You'll bend me over, huh?" There is a warmer tone in Toby's voice, the strangled tightness almost gone.

"Do you really want to find out?"

There is a brief pause, then Toby's voice becomes so low and sexy in his ear that it makes his whole body flush with heat. "Are you available tonight? I really want to see you."

He should play coy, but now isn't the time to be playing games. "I'm available."

"Good." Toby almost purrs. "Because I really want-- I want-- I want what you said. I want to bend over for you."

For one moment, Chris thinks Toby is asking to be punished. Then it hits him what Toby really means. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

There is no hesitation. "Yes. That's what I want. I think I've been wanting it for a while now."

Jesus. Tension pools at the base of his spine, his balls feel heavy in his jeans. "Make the arrangements. I want you naked when I get there."

He clicks off, and stands there a few minutes holding the phone and trying to pull himself together so he can go back to work.

---

It isn't Thursday, and that only adds to the feeling of surreality as he enters the hotel room. He sees Toby's clothes on the chair, his briefcase and shoes nearby. Chris's heartbeat ratchets up when he realizes that they're going to skip the preliminaries. Toby is waiting for him in the bedroom as ordered.

When Chris enters the bedroom, he stops to appreciate the sight of Toby kneeling in the middle of the bed, completely naked, and grinning. God, he's beautiful!

"Yes, I went to an AA meeting. Yes, I saw my sponsor. Now get your clothes off and get over here," Toby says.

Chris put his hands on his hips. "Oh, now, who thinks he's the boss around here?"

Toby starts to crawl toward him. "You're the boss, but I reserve the right to complain to the HR Department when you don't get naked fast enough." He gets to the edge of the bed and reaches out, fisting the front of Chris's shirt, and yanks him close. The kiss is searing, Chris can feel it all the way down to his toes. Toby pulls back with a last lick to Chris's bottom lip. "Now get naked, boss, before I file a lawsuit."

Toby watches hungrily as Chris tugs his shirt off and tosses it to the floor. Before he gets out of his pants, he pulls a one-use tube of lube out of his pocket and a condom. He shows them to Toby, who snickers. Crawling back up the bed, Toby reaches under a pillow and pulls out an industrial sized bottle of lube and a whole box of condoms.

He can't help laughing at Toby's over-preparedness and his sheepish grin. Throwing the tiny tube and single condom onto his shirt, Chris sheds the rest of his clothes, and climbs on the bed. He takes the lube and pretends to frown. "I don't think you got a big enough tube. There's not quite enough here to grease an engine."

Toby snatches the tube back. "If you can't tell the difference between my ass and an engine, then we've got a bigger problem here than lube."

Chris smothers a laugh, but Toby rolls his eyes at him anyway. He puts the lube and box of condoms on the bed, out of the way, but within grabbing distance.

Suddenly, Chris doesn't feel like laughing any more. They're both naked, kneeling, facing each other. He appreciates the view, Toby's strong shoulders and thighs, cock already getting hard just from Chris's heated gaze.

Cupping the nape of Toby's neck, Chris draws him closer. "Have you done anything like this before?"

Toby drops his gaze, flushing a little. "An ex-girlfriend of mine, you know," his flush deepens. "She used her fingers when she gave me a blowjob."

"How did you like it?"

"Weird. But good," he says with a shrug.

Not a ringing endorsement. He gives Toby a little shake. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Toby suddenly takes Chris's face in his hands, his eyes intent and focused entirely on Chris. "Yes. I want this. I want you."

Pulling Toby close, Chris kisses him as sweetly as he knows how. Toby returns the kiss just as sweetly, doing all the things he knows Chris likes. He shifts Toby, bringing him down to the bed, leaning over him to continue the kissing, but with added touching.

Toby has never laid back and let Chris do all the work. His hands roam over Chris's back, wander down to cup his ass, lingers long enough to show his appreciation of the firmness and shape, then pause at the dip of his back when Chris starts playing with a nipple. Toby starts moving restlessly beneath him, pushing up so their cocks bump together.

Chris leans up on an elbow so he can watch, but it's too distracting with Toby caressing his arms and chest. Toby has become very fond of Chris's chest hair for some reason, loving to run his fingers though it, sometimes tugging on it. It's not like Chris is particularly hairy, but Toby seems to be fascinated by all the things that make him male. Any minute, Toby is going to reach for Chris's cock.

Chris doesn't give him the chance. Sliding his hand down Toby's stomach, Chris runs the tips of his fingers up the length of his cock. Toby moves into the touch, but Chris keeps it teasing, allowing only the lightest caress. Frustrated, Toby growls and grabs for Chris's hand to make him take a firmer grip.

Chris laughs softly and kisses the tip of Toby's nose. "Turn over."

Toby grips Chris's arm, preventing him from rolling Toby onto his stomach. "Wait. I want to see you. Can we do it like this."

"It'll be easier the other way."

"Easier isn't necessarily better. I want to see your face."

Chris doesn't have an answer for that other than another kiss.

He gives Toby's cock a good, firm squeeze before nudging his legs apart to kneel in between them. Toby is sprawled open for him, not in the least nervous. The trust in his eyes as he looks at Chris makes him want this to be perfect for Toby.

He spends a few moments stroking Toby's thighs, stomach, and balls, then leans down to take his cock in his mouth. Toby immediately starts running his fingers through Chris's hair. Chris will have to do something about Toby's grabby hands later, but for now, he sucks and licks at Toby's cock while he moves his hand under his balls.

His finger brushes over Toby's hole, and the muscles tense in reaction. Applying a little pressure, Toby's opening yields only a little. Toby's body might be relaxed, but his hole is very tight. It's going to take a lot of time to get him ready; Chris doesn't mind one bit.

Toby is too busy enjoying the blowjob to notice Chris grabbing the lube. As he pops the cap, generously coating his fingers, he keeps up a nice suction on Toby's cock. He lets the lube warm for a moment, then smears a little between Toby's ass cheeks before pushing the tip of a finger against his hole.

He pulls back a little, caressing the sensitive skin. Toby moans softly. "Chris."

He loves to hear Toby say his name. Chris presses the tip of his finger in, and Toby's hands dig into his hair. "Chris!"

The first finger slides in as he sucks Toby's cock all the way to the root. As he pulls up on his cock, he slides his finger out and back in again. He takes his time, slowly working Toby open, teasing his cock with his mouth while loosening the tight hole with his fingers.

Toby is having way too much fun, too soon. When Chris brushes his sweet spot, he nearly comes. He whines in protest when Chris stops sucking him and sits up. Chris grins at Toby's disgruntled pout, gently pulling his fingers out of his ass.

He rolls his eyes at himself when he realizes that he forgot to take a condom out of the box. Toby smirks at Chris as he fumbles around with the box, trying to get the damned thing open with slick fingers. His hands go even clumsier when Toby sits up and begins to play with Chris's cock.

He didn't realize he was so close, just from playing with Toby. Chris has to shove a laughing Toby back down on the bed, so he doesn't pop off like a teenager.

Finally getting the box open, he tears open a packet and gets the condom out. Toby leans up on his elbows to watch. "I've never seen it from this side before. I've always been the one to put the condom on."

"Do you want to put it on me?"

"God, yes!" and he snatches the condom from Chris.

Toby is so intent, it's like he's defusing a bomb rather than rolling on a condom. He finishes with an air of triumph. "That was fun," he murmurs, cupping Chris's balls. If Toby doesn't stop, Chris really is going to go off like a shot.

"Lie down," he orders.

Reluctantly, Toby lets go of Chris and lies back on the bed. The heat in Toby's eyes blazes up as he watches Chris coat his cock with lube. Reaching down, Chris applies some of the slick to Toby's cock as well.

"Please, Chris, I don't want to wait any more."

"You don't have to."

Bracing one hand on the mattress, he kisses Toby, and starts to guide himself in. Toby is incredibly tight, but yielding, stretching around Chris's cock like he was made for it. Chris has to see it, see his cock slide all the way in.

He doesn't fight the tenderness that he feels for Toby, nor the satisfaction of knowing that he's the first to ever be inside him.

Toby's breath hitches as Chris gets all the way in. Chris stops, gives him time to adjust to the new sensations. "Breathe, Toby."

Toby's nails dig into Chris's shoulders as he gets his breathing under control. When Toby is completely relaxed again, Chris takes one of his arms, and then the other, and pushes them down on the bed. He gets a good grip on Toby's forearms; it's the best way to deal with Mr. Grabby Hands. When Toby is completely pinned, Chris begins to move.

Toby gasps with the first slow, deep thrust. Gasps turn into moans, then soft cries of pleasure as Chris sets a steady pace. His eyelids go heavy with bliss, but he never takes his eyes off Chris.

Chris starts to shake as he tries to hold back, but the tight grip of Toby's body is wearing away at his control. He moves faster in spite of his need to make this perfect for Toby. Toby takes it, hips thrusting in rhythm with Chris's, not holding anything back.

Suddenly, Toby throws his head back, groaning loudly as come splatters over his belly and chest. Chris maintains control long enough to get Toby all the way through the aftershocks. When Toby goes limp under him, Chris lets himself go, lets pleasure take him as he comes hard enough that the edges of his vision fades and all he sees is Toby.

---

They drowse in bed, Toby curled against him. Neither of them really sleep, but it's a couple of hours before they're fully cognizant. It's Toby who finally breaks the silence.

"You know almost everything about me, I hardly know a thing about you," Toby says.

"Nothing much to tell," Chris evades.

"I want to know anyway."

Chris can feel the loss when Toby lifts up so he can prop his head on one hand and look down at Chris. With the light of mischief in his eyes, Toby idly draws his finger up and down Chris's arm, distracting him.

"It's my turn to pick a game," Toby says.

Sated and comfortable, Chris shouldn't be responding to such a simple touch, but his body is already becoming sensitized by the light caress on his arm. He doesn't even try to pretend disinterest as Toby lets his fingers trail over Chris's shoulder to trace the line of his collar bones.

"I think I like this game already."

"You don't know the rules yet," Toby murmurs, as he pauses over one of Chris's pulse points.

"Rules?" Chris asks, becoming even more distracted. Under the sheet, Toby's foot is sliding up Chris's calf, then down until their toes meet. Chris wiggles his toes against Toby's, making him chuff a soft laugh.

"There's only one rule: if I do something you like, you have to tell me something about yourself."

"That's all?" It seems way too easy, but he immediately realizes that he'd underestimated Toby when he draws a blunt fingernail along the edge of Chris's jawline, making the stubble rasp.

"Ohhh, I think you liked that!" Toby smiles, delighted. Then he lifts his hand away from Chris and his toes stop their little dance under the sheet.

"Aww, c'mon, Toby," Chris says, nudging closer. But Toby pulls away from Chris entirely until there is nearly an inch of space between them.

"You know the rule."

Chris groans. "Fine. I like black olives on my pizza."

Expecting Toby to protest such a dumb cheat, he's surprised when Toby scooches close enough that their bodies are touching. He leaves his hand resting on his own hip, though, above the covers. Warmth expands through him as Toby presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He has to swallow hard before he can answer.

"The first time I married Bonnie, it was in Vegas."

Toby is shocked, and Chris can tell he's dying to ask a million questions. That was a giant load of information contained in one sentence; more important than what he likes on his pizza. It scares him to reveal so much, but he figures he owes it to Toby. And he's too caught up in the game to only give half measure.

Toby doesn't ask. Instead, he places the palm of his hand against the middle of Chris's chest, lets his fingers knead into the flesh. "So many things I want to do to you," he says, more like he's talking to himself than Chris.

It would be easy to end this game by reaching for Toby, rolling him over and distracting the living hell out of him, but the anticipation of finding out what Toby will do next already has his blood charging. Toby has barely started and Chris's dick is already tenting the sheet. He likes what Toby is doing.

"I used to steal cars when I was a kid."

Toby's jaw drops a little, then he frowns as he flicks one of Chris's nipples.

"Hey!" Chris yelps at the unexpected bit of pain.

"You're just full of surprises," he says.

Toby's annoyed, but he's careful as he gently circles the tingling nipple with a fingertip. Round and around, and Chris can feel his whole chest yearn upward trying to get more than the teasing sensation.

He's so absorbed that he's barely aware of the breath warming his ear as Toby whispers, "Do you like it?"

Chris makes an affirmative noise in this throat.

"Tell me something."

Chris gropes for words when what he really wants to do lie there and revel in whatever wicked thing Toby wants to do to him next.

"I like to eat cereal for breakfast. Sometimes I'll have it for dinner, too, if I don't feel like cooking."

That really gets Toby's attention. His finger stops moving, and Chris can't help but growl at the loss.

"You cook?"

"Don't act so surprised," Chris says, reaching up to lightly thump Toby on the top of his head.

"Ow! And I'm sorry, but I love cooking too."

"You do?"

Toby pinches Chris's nipple. "Now you don't act so surprised."

Chris grins up at Toby even though his nipple is getting a bit sore. "So you love to cook. Anything fancy?"

"Ah, ah. You're the answer man tonight."

Then Toby leans down and takes the abused nipple in his mouth and gently sucks. Chris gasps at each tiny lap of Toby's tongue, and tries to keep his hands still by clutching the sheets, but he ends up cupping the back of Toby's head, fingers twining through his soft hair. There is an audible pop when Toby releases the nipple. His smile is perfectly wicked.

"I already know you liked that. So. Tell me something I don't know."

He should have more control than this. "My first wife was Kitty. Then I married Bonnie, then Angelique. Bonnie for the second time. I divorced her six months ago." Chris's teeth click as he clamps his mouth shut. All that for a little nipple sucking. There were people he'd known for years who didn't know that much about him.

"Well," Toby purrs, "I believe that deserves a little something extra."

Then Toby shifts on top of Chris, straddling his hips. He's staring down at their cocks, lining them up, completely fascinated. Chris is too. He's mesmerized at the sight of Toby's dark gold curls next to his black, both cocks hard and dark with arousal. When Toby rolls his hips, their cocks nestle against each other, perfect together.

Toby looks up, his fair skin flushed, eyes hot. He may be in control, at least for now, but he isn't unaffected by what's happening. Not at all.

"You're making it hard to think," Toby complains, and Chris has to laugh.

"You've been fucking with my judgment since the way we met," Chris says, and suddenly realizes that he's revealed way too much. He reaches up and pinches one of Toby's nipples, half as distraction, half in retaliation for making him talk too much. Toby's breath hisses out, but he doesn't move away. Instead, he takes Chris's hand and guides his fingers to a gentler caress, his lips parting and eyelids going heavy with pleasure.

Chris brings up his other hand and starts playing with the other nipple, until Toby moans softly. Toby's hands cup the back of Chris's holding them in place, while his chest pushes forward into the sensation. He's dazed, but after a while he pulls Chris's hands away and presses them down onto the mattress.

"This isn't about me," he says, then takes Chris's mouth in a deep kiss.

Chris is loving the attention. This isn't normally how he would act with a sub, but he can't help but revel under the intense focus and the anticipation of what Toby will do next. It feels good to lie back and feel Toby's hands moving over his chest, fingers digging into his flesh, not hurting, but rough enough to make Chris's hips buck up, making their cocks glide together. Toby moans into his mouth and leans back.

With a long, hot gaze, Toby takes both their cocks in one broad hand. Groaning, Chris thrusts into the tight grip, watching their cockheads push through the circle of Toby's hand. A thumb slides over the wet tips, and Chris is gone, panting and writhing against the sheets.

"You're beautiful like this," Toby says, voice a husky rasp. "I want to see you like this every day. I want to watch you come."

It shouldn't be possible for Chris to be so close so soon after he'd already come, but he can feel the next one tingling under his skin, like a lightning strike about to happen. He's thrusting up, and Toby is moving with him in a perfect rhythm, his hand stroking them higher. Chris lets go of the sheets to grab Toby's thighs, the muscles rippling under his hands as Toby works their cocks together.

"Toby," he gasps. "Toby!"

"God, Chris, let me see you come."

It isn't the lack of clothing that lays him bare before Toby's watching eyes. He wants to give Toby what he asked for, wants Toby to see him. When Toby's thumb smooths over the head of his cock, round and round, Chris gives it up for him, gives everything he has, crying out as he spills over Toby's hand, white hot pleasure blanking him out. He becomes aware again just in time to watch Toby come all over him, adding to the mess already on his belly.

Toby collapses forward, his head against Chris's shoulder, his hand still wrapped around their cocks, but gentle on their oversensitive flesh. After a catching his breath, he leans up and grins. Lifting his hand, he licks the come off, never taking his eyes off Chris. He doesn't get all of it. Hand still sticky, he offers it to Chris.

"I want to see you lick it off. I want to know what it feels like when you watch me do it for you."

This is so wrong. He isn't the sub here. But Toby's expression is so open, so filled with longing, that Chris licks at his hand. Toby's gasp is loud in the room. He is absolutely fascinated by Chris's tongue flicking over his hand. Chris doesn't care about the taste, he just licks and watches Toby until he's done.

Toby pulls his hand away, and stares at him for a long moment. When he smiles, it's almost shy, and very sweet. Then he leans down and starts to lick Chris's belly, lapping up the come, moving up to his chest, nuzzling through the hair to get every drop.

It feels like something tender breaks open inside him. Chris takes Toby's head in his hands and pulls him up for a kiss, tasting himself and Toby mingled there.

---

Half drowsing, with Toby tucked comfortably against him, he almost misses Toby's whisper. "Stealing cars?"

Nuzzling the top of Toby's head, Chris tries to figure out how to explain his asshole father and spineless mother, and decides it's too much trouble.

"Yeah, stole a few cars. Finally got caught."

"Did you go to jail?"

"It was a close call, but the judge sent me to one of those juvenile boot camps for delinquents for eighteen months. Spent the first six scrubbing the latrine with a toothbrush." Chris can feel Toby's smile against his shoulder. "I don't know where I'd be right now if the judge had sent me to prison."

Toby shivers. "I don't know where I'd be right now if I'd killed that little girl."

Chris tightens his arm around Toby. "You didn't. She's fine, and you're here." He kisses the top of Toby's head. "Now go to sleep," he orders.

---

It's weird standing in the hallway of Toby's apartment building waiting for him to answer his door. Chris has always been the one waiting for Toby to let himself in. It's also a little disturbing to be taking their meetings outside the privacy of their hotel room. When they were there, they created their own world, their own rules. This is something close to a date-- no, it is a date, emphasized by the knowledge that Toby isn't paying him to be here.

He can't believe that he let Toby talk him into this, but Chris doesn't always think with the big head after mind-blowing sex.

Before letting his nerves get the best of him and make him turn tail and run, Chris bangs on the door, maybe a little too hard. When Toby answers, there's a red stain on his shirt and a checkered dish towel thrown over one shoulder. His hair might have been neatly combed once, but now it's curling a bit and strands are flying around his face. He looks so good, Chris doesn't care any more that this is their first date. All he wants to do is push Toby against the nearest flat surface and grope him until they become a melted puddle on the floor.

Toby's smile is brilliant. "You're here!"

"So, you thought I wouldn't show up," he says, maybe a little belligerently.

Toby ushers him in and guides him through the living room and into the kitchen. "I had my doubts," he says, as he stands in front of a pan of red sauce gently bubbling on the stove. He picks up a spoon and stirs. "But I knew that you couldn't resist finding out if I was as good a cook as I said I was." His smile this time is teasing, but no less brilliant than before.

Relaxing a bit, Chris leans his hip against the counter next to Toby and takes a deep whiff of the rich scents rising from the pans on the stove. Onions and garlic and tomatoes make his mouth water.

"Chicken Parmesan. I was going to cook veal, but I wasn't sure if you'd like it. Some people don't eat veal."

"I'll eat anything that doesn't eat me first."

"I'm afraid I'm a little pickier than you. You're going to have to come up with something impressive when it's your turn to cook."

So Toby was already counting on a second date. For once, Chris decides to relax and let himself savor the pleasant feeling. They are moving this thing they have out of the bedroom. Couldn't he just enjoy that?

"How does Chinese takeout sound?"

Toby lifts a brow and nudges Chris lightly with his elbow then goes back to stirring the sauce. He then drops in some herbs already chopped up on the cutting board.

"You're making the sauce from scratch?" Chris asks, moving closer to breathe in the fragrance.

"Of course." Toby says, with a 'well duh' tone in his voice. "How am I supposed to impress you with my cooking skills if I use a canned sauce?"

He suddenly needs to put his arms around Toby, so he does. Resting his chin on Toby's shoulder, he says, "You really want to impress me, huh?"

"Don't get a big head about it," Toby grumbles, but he rubs his cheek against Chris's anyway.

They stand that way for several minutes while Toby adds more ingredients and stirs.

With obvious reluctance, Toby says, "Okay, I need to let this simmer for a bit before I start the chicken cutlets. Mind helping me set the table?"

Just as reluctant, Chris steps back. "Sure. Where are the plates?"

Together, they gather everything they need and carry it out to the dining area. There are already candlesticks in silver holders and a small flower arrangement on the table. Chris puts the plates down and picks up a bottle sitting there.

"What's this?" Chris picks up the wine, studies the label.

"It's wine, what did you think it was?"

"What's it doing here?"

Toby's smile slips and he starts to look irritated. "I bought it for you. Thought you might like some with your dinner."

"I don't need wine with dinner," Chris says, not really sure why he's so upset.

"Whatever," Toby says, trying to take the bottle, but Chris holds it out of reach. "I'll just put it away."

"Is this all? What else do you have?"

Now Toby is really starting to look pissed. "There's nothing else. Even my mouthwash is non-alcoholic. You wanna check for yourself?"

"I just might," Chris says, walking to the front door. Opening it, he puts the wine bottle on the floor in the hallway.

"Oh, c'mon, you're being ridiculous. I have a wine collection at my house. And I'm around alcohol all the time. I'm fine with it here."

"Well, I'm not."

Toby tries to move around Chris. "If you leave it out there, someone's going to steal it."

"Let'em." He gives Toby a light shove away from the door.

"I didn't spend a hundred bucks on a bottle of wine for the neighbors to drink. Anyway, just because I can't drink doesn't mean you have to go without."

Chris grabs Toby's arms as he tries to get to the door again.

"Now is not a good time for you to have temptation right under your nose."

"You know, that isn't your decision to make!"

This whole thing is a mistake; Chris should have turned Toby down right from the beginning. But agreeing to a date? Compounding an error is a fucking brilliant thing to do.

"Yes, it is," Chris grinds out. "You gave me that power when you first came to me."

"That's different. We're not at the hotel right now. This is my home and this is a date. I call the shots." Toby heads toward the door again.

Pissed, Chris grabs his arm, twists it behind him and maneuvers him until he is bent over the back of the couch. It's a nice couch. Good. Toby's going to be there a while.

"What the fuck are you doing! Let me go!"

Chris brings his hand down on Toby's ass with a loud crack. Toby gasps, "Fuck!"

He slaps the other cheek, just as hard. Toby gets over the shock fast and starts to struggle, his free hand scrabbling for purchase on the couch, his hips moving as if trying to avoid the next blow.

"Be still," Chris orders.

"Fuck you! Let me go!"

He twists Toby's arm painfully high, forcing him to stillness. Toby yelps when Chris smacks his ass again, then chokes it off as he gets a few more hard slaps. Pausing, he listens to Toby breathing hard and making little snarling sounds. Yeah, he's pissed, but he's not moving any more.

Gently, he cups an ass check, rubbing. Toby squirms, but doesn't try to get away. "I think you are under the mistaken impression about who's in charge here."

"We're on a date. I'm not paying you for this!"

Chris rubs the other cheek. "You hired me to help you turn your life around. This is part of your life, isn't it?"

He can tell that Toby is thinking about it. After a long moment, he asks, "What are you going to do?"

"Help you figure out who's in charge." Chris leaves off playing with Toby's ass and reaches underneath him to pop the snap on his jeans.

"Is this a punishment?"

"Oh, no. Even though you deserve some corner time, I don't want to ruin our date. Consider it a lesson."

Chris is careful with the zipper when he realizes that Toby has gone commando. Toby's breath hisses when Chris gently touches his hardening cock. Chris can't tell if it's the adrenaline, being manhandled, or the spanks getting Toby hard, but it's a good sign. One light squeeze and Chris gets to work on Toby's jeans, shoving them down until they are puddled around his ankles.

"Step out," he says, nudging Toby's foot with his toe.

"Chris, please don't do this," Toby pleads.

He cups Toby's ass in warning. "This is the last time I'm letting you off the hook. Do what I tell you or I'll use the belt instead of my hand."

Chris allows the long minute it takes for Toby to finally make up his mind to obey. He steps out of his jeans and Chris kicks them out of the way. He pauses to admire the pink tint of Toby's ass, but he's not going to be satisfied until it's blazing red.

"Who's in charge?"

"You are," Toby snarls, but it doesn't sound like he believes it.

Chris pulls his arm back and really lets Toby have it.

"Mother fucker!" Toby yells, more startled than anything.

"Now that's not very respectful," Chris says.

He slaps the other cheek. Toby jerks, his breath whooshing out. Chris knows how uncomfortable it is to be bent over a couch, but he doesn't dare move him to a more comfortable location. Anyway, Chris is enjoying the view, and Toby is in the perfect position for what's coming next.

Normally, Chris would start with a few light swats to warm things up, then build up to harder blows, but he takes the opposite approach this time. Now that he has Toby's full attention, he can make this a lot more interesting. For both of them.

"Who's in charge?" Chris asks again.

Toby's reply is more subdued. "You are."

"Say it, and use my name."

"You're in charge, Chris."

Toby flinches when Chris touches an ass cheek, but slowly relaxes when Chris does nothing more than fondle him. After a few minutes of listening to Toby's hitching breaths while he caresses his ass, Chris slides his hand around and strokes Toby's cock. Not completely hard, but it doesn't take long for it to firm up under Chris's expert touch. When Toby moans, Chris knows he has him.

Leaning down, he whispers in Toby's ear, "You know I'm not done yet."

That's all the warning he gets. Chris lets go of his cock and slaps Toby's ass. He gives Toby a few more, barely taps, and they probably sound shockingly loud to Toby, but he knows it's already stinging like crazy. Every few slaps, he stops to rub them in, enjoying the shape of Toby's ass in his tingling hand.

He keeps the pace slow and easy, a few smacks followed by soft caresses. Eventually, he lets his hand wander more, to the back of Toby's thighs, the tender perineum, and finally his balls. Toby squirms and it's not to get away from Chris's hand any more.

Both cheeks are bright red so Chris slows down even more, fewer slaps and more rubbing the tender skin. Toby is panting but mostly silent, until Chris slides a finger between his cheeks and presses a fingertip against his hole.

Toby groans. "Chris, please!"

Chris gives a cheek an apologetic squeeze before checking the supplies he'd stashed in his pocket.

"Chris!" Toby says, more insistently.

"Patience." He studies Toby for a moment, and even though he could fuck him while still holding onto his arm, he doesn't think Toby is going to bolt if he releases the arm hold.

"Toby, I'm going to let go of your arm. I want you to brace yourself against the couch. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I get it. Let go already." He emphasizes his point by using his free hand to swat at Chris.

Jesus Christ, Toby has to be the worst sub ever. It amuses Chris enough that he doesn't give Toby the smack that he deserves, but instead lets go of his arm.

"Ow, ow, ow," Toby says, as he straightens his arm. He rolls his shoulders but he gets both hands braced against the couch cushions, his ass perches high over the back. It is truly a spectacular view.

"Spread your legs," he says, as he pulls out the one-use tube of lubricant from his pocket. He was never a Boy Scout, but he still lives by the motto be prepared, especially when it comes to sex.

Toby immediately complies, spreading his legs wider and shifting so he's firmly braced. Resting one hand on the small of Toby's back, holding him in place, Chris gins and thumbs the cap off the lube, squirting a good dollop down Toby's crack. Toby hisses at the sudden cold and glares at Chris over his shoulder.

"Asshole!"

Laughing, Chris squeezes the rest of the lube onto his fingers and tosses the tube over his shoulder. Toby's glare disappears when Chris pushes a finger between his pretty cheeks. Dropping his head back down, Toby goes up on his toes as Chris pushes a fingertip inside. He settles back down as Chris starts to press one finger inside and then another as he opens Toby up as carefully as he can when all he wants to do is get his cock in there right now.

Chris has to close his eyes for a minute when Toby moans and pushes back, fucking himself on Chris's fingers. The jury is still out on whether Toby is a true sub or not, but he's taking to bottoming like a natural. Then and there, Chris wants to know what Toby will be like as a top. Next time, he promises himself.

When Chris looks at Toby again, he can see the line of Toby's back, his shirt riding up around his shoulders. Toby is too lost in sensation to think to shrug the shirt off and that's an even bigger turn on for Chris, that Toby is so focused on him, on what he's doing, to pay attention to anything else.

He lets Toby ride his fingers for a good long while, memorizing the play of muscles in his back, the beautifully spanked ass, the way his fingers move in and out of that ass. He wants to remember this for a very long time.

The ache of his cock eventually needs attention. He uses his free hand to snag the condom out of his pocket and places it on the back of the couch next to Toby. Fumbling open his pants, he shoves them down enough to free his cock. Toby isn't the only one who went commando.

Toby mutters in protest when Chris pulls his fingers out of his ass; he needs both hands to get the condom open and onto his cock. He uses the last lube on his fingers to slick himself up. Toby is looking at him, a brief hungry glance at his cock, then gazing into his eyes with pure need.

"Now, Chris, please."

He doesn't know why it shakes him, but it does. He leans forward, knowing that he can't quite reach Toby's mouth at this angle, but Toby seems to know what he wants and lifts himself up to meet him halfway. Their mouths bump together, tongues lick out in a quick awkward dance, then Toby goes back down with a soft umph.

Taking Toby's hips in his hands, Chris begins to slowly press his cock into Toby's ass, wanting to go easy, at least at first, but Toby has other ideas. He begins to push himself onto Chris's cock with a steady determination that makes Chris's brain feel likes it about to melt.

"Fuck, Toby, fuck," he groans.

"Fuck, yes," Toby groans back.

Then Chris is all the way in, cock surrounded by the sweet tightness of Toby's body, and he gives one last vague thought to going easy when Toby pants out, "Fuck, Chris, fuck me already!"

So he does. He pulls out and strokes back in again, and Toby makes a sound almost like relief. The couch creaks under the onslaught as Chris pounds into Toby, so deep and good, he's helpless to do anything but hang on and fuck.

The tightness around his cock is more than enough, but Toby's cries of pleasure, they way he keeps saying Chris's name, makes him go a little crazy. The slap of flesh on flesh speeds up as Chris works his hips, wanting to get as much of Toby as he can. Toby keeps up with him every step of the way, rocking his hips to meet every stroke, taking Chris like he was made for him.

Chris is getting close, but Toby is getting frustrated, he's not quite there. Prying one hand off Toby's hip, he manages to grip his cock while keeping the fast pace. That's all it takes. Toby yells the walls down as he comes all over the place, Chris's hand, the back of the couch, the floor.

With Toby writhing beneath him, Chris lets go, pleasure blazing through him, his legs barely keeping him up as he comes deep inside Toby.

Slumping over Toby's back, he wonders if it's possible to go blind from coming that hard until Toby elbows him. He opens his eyes to see Toby looking a bit cross-eyed and frowning at him.

"You're heavy. Get off."

He doesn't want to move, but his legs still feel like jello and he doesn't actually want to fall down. Sighing, he straightens up, runs his hands over Toby's body, checking him, then maneuvers them down to the floor.

Chris lies there with Toby weighing down one arm, knows that it'll go numb fairly soon, and doesn't care. For a long while Chris is too blissed out to care that they are both sweaty, his jeans are binding uncomfortably around his thighs, and Toby's wet dick leaves a new come trail on his hip every time he shifts. And he does. Keep shifting.

"Relax. You're ruining the afterglow."

"The only thing glowing around here is my ass."

Chris grins up at the ceiling because, yeah.

Toby huffs irritably and thumps Chris on the head. "Ow!"

He's too sated to hit back or do much of anything. Then Toby sniffs loudly and leans up on an elbow.

"Damn. You burned the sauce," he says accusingly. Toby must be the only person on Earth who can be grumpy after mind blowing sex.

Chris can smell it now. "Order pizza."

"You're paying," Toby says and kicks him in the shin as he gets up. "And you're washing the pan."

Chris smirks at Toby's gorgeous red ass as he rushes into the kitchen.

"Whatever you want, Toby," he says, but not loud enough for Toby to hear.

---

It's just whim. He doesn't need to check his bank statement, but he's finished checking his email, and playing around with his Fantasy Football team, and is about to shut down his computer.

He stares at the deposit for a long time. It's the same as always - except it isn't supposed to be there at all.

Apparently, Saturday night wasn't a date after all.

---

Chris waits until they are curled on the couch, Toby's head on his shoulder as they unwind a little before going into the bedroom.

"You didn't have to pay me for Saturday."

"I didn't know if I was supposed to pay you or not. I guess I should have asked."

He doesn't sound too concerned about it, which upsets Chris even more.

"It was a date."

"A gentleman always pays for his dates," Toby says with a yawn as he snuggles closer.

"It wasn't that kind of date," Chris says, sharply, getting up.

Toby blinks at him sleepily, rubs at an eye. He looks tired. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"No, I guess you don't," Chris says. "Get in the room."

His expression is quizzical as he stares at Chris, but he finally shrugs and goes into the bedroom.

Chris is harder than usual that night. Toby responds to every command promptly, but without the worshipful enthusiasm that he expects from a sub. Toby goes along with the scene to please Chris, which is correct, but the attitude is all wrong.

Finally, Toby huffs out a sigh, leans back on his heels and glares up at Chris. "Look, why don't you tell me what the problem is before I have to have maxillofacial surgery," he says, rubbing his jaw. "If I've done something wrong, you have to tell me instead of punishing me for something I don't have a clue about."

Shame washes over him so suddenly, he has to go sit down on the bed. He knows better than to take his temper out on a sub during a scene. Even as bad a sub as Toby, which makes it worse. Chris can only be grateful that Toby hadn't been in the right headspace.

Jesus, if Vince found out, he'd immediately order Chris to stay away from Toby for his protection then make Chris go in for retraining. But first, he'd strap Chris to the nearest rack and paddle his ass hard enough that he couldn't sit down for a week.

The bed dips as Toby sits down next to him. "Chris, tell me what's going on. You're scaring me. What did I do wrong?"

"It's me. You didn't do anything wrong," he says, wrapping an arm around Toby.

"That's bullshit. You've been pissed off at me all evening. Tell me what I did so I can make it up to you."

Chris could lie, reassure Toby, make him think his behavior was all a part of the scene. The money is such a stupid thing to get mad about, he's embarrassed to admit it. If he is serious about Toby, and he is beginning to think that he is, then he has to come clean.

Tightening his arm around Toby, he pulls him closer so that he can't get a good look at Chris's face. "What I did was wrong. I'm supposed to be in control of myself during a scene and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

Toby pulls back far enough so he can see Chris's face. Chris gets the balls to meet Toby's eyes and finds that he's more amused than anything. "Why don't we both admit that this," Toby waves his hand, "scene isn't working for us. Some of it's fun, and a lot of it's sexy, but I don't think I'm cut out to be a sub."

Chris's heart drops. "You want to quit."

"The scenes, yes. And the kneeling and," Toby rubs his jaw, "the all night blowjobs."

They both share a smile, and Chris relaxes, waiting to hear the rest of it.

"I didn't start this for the sexy stuff to begin with. I needed help with a problem and you've actually done more to help with it than I can say. Maybe we can change what we do in the bedroom but still keep on working on my problem."

Chris looks away, doubtful. "I don't know, Toby."

"We can try. See what happens." He slips his arm around Chris's waist and settles it comfortably.

Chris still isn't sure that he should be managing Toby's 'problem' but he nods anyway. "Okay, we'll try."

"Good. Now tell me what the hell you're pissed off about so we can get that cleared out of the way."

Chris laughs a little, embarrassed. "Fine. I was mad that you paid me for Saturday."

Toby isn't stupid, at least not stupid enough to laugh or joke about it. He nods. "I guess I've been getting mixed signals. I really didn't know what to do. I wanted it to be a regular date," Chris watches as a blush steal over Toby's face, "but after what happened..."

That made perfect sense, and if Chris had simply talked with Toby about it sooner, they could have had a much better evening. But at least they're getting the problem out into the open.

He pulls Toby close, lets his forehead rest against Toby's. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. I should have asked about the money, talked it over with you. Would have saved me a trip to the dentist's office for this worn out jaw."

Chuckling, Chris moves to kiss Toby. "I know a really good way to relieve pain, and you don't even need a prescription for it."

"Oh, really? Tell me all about it Dr. Chris."

"How 'bout I show you," he says, pushing Toby down on the bed.

---

Chris is drying off after a shower when his phone rings. It's been a long, grueling day at work and all he wants to do is kick back, drink a beer, and watch some TV. He sighs when he sees that it's Vince; he's not in the mood for an hour of current gossip or maudlin reminiscing. He answers, already finding excuses to get Vince off the phone.

"Chris, have you read the newspaper?"

The effects of his relaxing shower disappear as tension coils up his spine. "What's going on?"

"You need to sit down." Vince is making him even more nervous.

"Just tell me what the hell is going on!"

"You need to look at the obituaries."

Suddenly, Chris knows just what it feels like to have his blood run cold. Standing in the middle of his bedroom, cell phone pressed to his ear, he feels like he's turned into a block of ice.

Maybe he made some kind of noise because Vince exclaims, "No! Not Toby! Not him, but it's bad. There's an article too... "

Vince's babbling fades away as relief overwhelms Chris. Shakily, he drops down on the edge of his bed.

"... the police are investigating, but they're sure that it's suicide."

"Vince," Chris says, his voice weak. "Start from the beginning. And leave out the part where you scare the hell out of me."

"Fuck, Chris, I'm sorry. I caught the article, then checked the obituaries, and I knew I had to call you. Toby must be going crazy."

He starts to get pissed. "If you don't tell me what's going on in the next five minutes-- "

"Toby's wife committed suicide."

"Say again?" He heard the words, but the meaning is slow to penetrate.

Vince's sigh is genuinely exasperated, and not a part of his persona. "Toby's wife killed herself. It happened the day before yesterday. She was found in the garage with the car running."

"Son of a bitch," Chris mutters.

"Toby has to be a wreck right now. And the kids." Vince becomes more subdued. "According to the article, the two oldest kids found her."

"Son of a bitch!" Chris pauses to think. "What about the baby?"

"The article doesn't say."

"Thanks, Vince. I've gotta call Toby."

Chris hangs up and immediately calls Toby's number. All he gets is voice mail. He hangs up and tries again. The rest of the evening is spent trying to get through to Toby.

---

It's Thursday. The paper tells him the time and the place of the funeral. He fights the little seed of resentment that tells him he should have found out about all this from Toby.

He takes time off from work to go to the funeral home. The place is packed.

Chris wants to be there for Toby, but it doesn't take Emily Post to figure out it would be in the poorest of taste to show up. He doesn't stop, but he drives around the block a few times, slows down to watch the black clad mourners go in.

He goes to the hotel room that night, but Toby doesn't show.

---

Two days later, Chris is at work when the cell vibrates in his pocket. He nearly drops the damned thing in his haste to answer it.

"Toby?"

"Chris, I need to see you tonight. I know we were supposed to meet the other night, but..." Toby sounds so weary, Chris feels some of his own worry disappear.

"It's okay. I know what's going on. But you should have called me."

"I know I missed our appointment. I'm sorry."

"I don't care that you missed the appointment. I care that you didn't let me help you. I'm the one you're supposed to turn to."

Chris feels himself flush with embarrassment at his own words as he glances around the shop. Ronnie gives him a smirk before ducking his head and getting back to his job. Turning away, Chris hunches his shoulder for more privacy.

"I'm turning to you now," Toby says. "It's been crazy around here. I haven't had a free minute since-- " He chokes.

"Hey, hey," Chris soothes, murmuring nonsense until Toby gets himself together again.

"Fuck, Chris, I really need to see you tonight."

"I'll be there," Chris says.

"Good. I've got to go. This is hell." Toby hangs up.

Somehow, Chris gets through the rest of the day without hurting himself or ruining any of his projects.

---

After a quick trip home for a shower and change of clothes, Chris expects to be at the room ahead of Toby. He's wrong.

Toby is already sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, face buried in his hands. His shirt and dress pants are badly rumpled, his suit jacket and tie are draped over a chair and don't look any better. When he looks up, the relief on his face is almost as great as Chris's.

Then the relief disappears like it was never there. As Chris approaches the couch, Toby jumps up and moves around the coffee table away from Chris. He pauses next to the chair where his jacket and tie are and focuses his gaze on them instead of Chris.

"Look, Chris, I can't stay long. And I'm not really up for anything tonight."

Concerned, and a little peeved that Toby would think he was only there for sex, Chris sits on the couch, letting one arm rest along the top invitingly. Toby's glance darts toward him then away.

"I'm not expecting anything. You should know that. I'm here for you."

Toby stands there and fidgets, half turned away from Chris like he's having a hard time looking him in the face. His voice is low, like he's talking more to himself than to Chris. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

"Then come here."

Toby's face is agonized when he looks up. "I can't, Chris. I can't."

The alarm bells are going off in his head as he stands up. "What's going on, Toby?"

"Everything." Toby gestures around. "This was a mistake. I should never have listened to Vince. I should have stayed with my family. Gen would be alive if I had stayed where I belong."

"That's not true." Chris holds his hands out as he approaches Toby, as if soothing a panicked animal that might bolt. Toby inches away until Chris stops moving just out of touching distance. "You knew you had to change, Toby. You couldn't keep living that way. Staying in a house with someone you don't love wasn't right, and you know it. Think about it."

"I have thought about it. If I had been there, I would have seen that she was in trouble."

"You're wrong. If you had stayed, you'd still be drinking. You'd still be working constantly and out of the house. And you both would have been miserable instead of just her."

Toby's jaw set, stubbornly. "I'm her husband. She was my responsibility. I should have taken care of her."

"Toby, think. Could she have stopped you from drinking? No. You had to want to stop. You had to do it on your own. Your wife had the same options. She could have asked for help. Hell, she could have asked you for help, but she didn't. There is no way you could have known she was going to kill herself."

Toby isn't listening. He goes to the chair and gropes around in the pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls out a piece of paper. With a cold, sinking feeling in his gut, he already knows what it is.

"She mailed this to me." Toby's stares at the paper in his hand, but it's obvious he isn't reading. He has the damned thing memorized. "She said it's my fault. She said that she can't take me cheating on her."

"That's bullshit, Toby." Chris doesn't know how she found out about their relationship, and he doesn't really care enough to ask.

"She tried so hard to be a good wife."

"Bullshit!"

Chris can't take it any more. He grabs Toby's arms and gives him a hard shake. Toby snaps out of his daze long enough to look at Chris, but he still isn't completely focused. Chris sure as hell can't have that; Toby's bitch wife isn't going to get another minute of what belongs to him. He snatches the letter out of Toby's hand and tears it in half. That sure gets Toby's attention.

"Give me that!"

Toby lunges for the letter, but Chris turns and blocks him with his shoulder.

"Don't you get it, Toby? She wanted your kids to find her. She planned it that way."

Toby has one hand on Chris's shoulder, the other reaching for the torn letter, but that makes him pause.

"What?"

He sounds more confused than anything, so Chris decides to shed more light on the situation. Toby is too busy being guilty and miserable to see what is really going on.

"Didn't you wonder about the timing?" Chris tore the letter again, "You weren't going to be there to pick the kids up until that evening." The letter makes a very satisfying sound as he tears it again. "The kids found her in the afternoon." Another rip. "Who else was due to show up at that time?" One last rip and the pieces fall to the floor like confetti.

Toby finally backs away. "No."

Chris turns to face Toby, makes a gentling motion with his hands. "She did it to hurt you, Toby, the worst way possible. She dragged your kids into it to twist the knife."

Toby shakes his head. He's falling apart and all Chris wants to do is hold him together. "No. It's my fault."

"You're not listening to me."

"I-- " Toby picks up his jacket and tie. "I can't do this. Not right now." He walks to the door.

"Wait, Toby. We can just sit, we don't have to talk. Just don't go right now."

Resolutely, Toby grabs the doorknob. He doesn't turn around as he opens the door. "I can't."

Then he's gone.

---

Chris waits for a phone call that never comes. He's torn between giving Toby space and calling to check on him. He doesn't let himself think that it's all over, just like that. Toby will come to his senses; he has to.

---

Chris has no idea if Toby will show up or not, but he arrives at the hotel and gets the room ready anyway. He nearly gets up from the couch when he hears weird thumping and scratching at the door. Twenty minutes late. Chris isn't sure if he's more angry or relieved that Toby is finally there.

When Toby stumbles in and nearly falls on his face, Chris is definitely more angry.

He's drunk. Chris gets up and walks past Toby to close the door. Toby swipes a hand at him, but he's too uncoordinated to make contact. Chris is too fast for him.

"I'm here," Toby says, as if that's an accomplishment. He lists to one side, rubs a hand over his mouth like he's trying to find a substitute for the bottle.

Chris is right in front of him; he can hardly stand the stink. The anger is hot and immediate, cleaner than the helpless ache Toby had left him with last week. It's been years since anyone has had the power to whipsaw his emotions this way, sending him from one extreme to the other.

"Did you drive here like this?" he demands.

Toby blinks, tries to focus. "Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to get-- "

Chris slaps him, hard. Even sober, Toby would have staggered under the force of it. Only his shoulder hitting the wall keeps him from going down on his ass. "Hey!"

When he wipes his mouth this time, blood comes away on his hand. In spite of everything they've done together, Toby is more shocked than Chris has ever seen him. A small inkling of how badly he's fucked up is starting to penetrate the alcoholic fog in his head, because he pushes off the wall and stumbles toward Chris.

"Stop," he snarls. "Don't touch me."

Stricken, Toby tries to slide to his knees, but Chris grabs his arms and keeps him on his feet. He lets go the minute Toby is stable enough to not fall down in his drunken state.

"Chris, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I needed a drink, okay?" He starts trying to tuck his shirt into his pants, as if that will make any difference.

Chris doesn't know what to do with his fury, with this helpless disappointment. He's supposed to keep Toby on the straight and narrow, but he's failed. But he always knew this wasn't his responsibility to begin with. He doesn't know who he's madder at, Toby or himself.

At the moment, he decides he's madder at Toby. Right now, he needs to sort out Toby; he can sort himself out later.

"Are you going to punish me now?" Toby asks, apprehensively. He looks a little sick. Even inebriated, he must know that he won't be getting anything like his last punishment.

"Yeah, I'm going to punish you," Chris says, keeping his voice cold, his expression distant.

Toby swallows, bows his head. Even now, there is little sign of actual submission in the gesture.

"I-- I'll do whatever you want, Chris."

"You will not see me for four weeks. You will not call me or try and contact me in any way. When it's time, I'll call you. When I do see you, you will be clean and sober." Chris stares hard into Toby's stunned face. "And if you're not, that will be the last time you'll see me. Ever."

Toby draws a shaky breath. "A whole month? I can't do it. I need you." He tries to touch Chris but he backs out of reach. "Chris, please. It's been hell, my parents-- "

"Shut up," he says, cutting him off. The last thing he wants to hear is excuses.

"Listen, I've been thinking. I've been thinking about us, about my feelings for you, and-- "

"Shut the fuck up!"

He gives Toby a shove, hard enough that his back slams against the wall. He doesn't want to hear anything Toby has to say. A few weeks ago, a declaration of his feelings would have been welcome. Now, Chris doesn't want some drunken, mumbled confession, something that could be denied or forgotten the next day. And he's not sure if it would be the truth, anyway, or just a ploy to keep Chris hooked.

Chris grabs the lapel of Toby's jacket and hustles him over to the couch, shoving him down. He gets a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge and hands it to Toby.

"Drink that. You're in no condition to drive. The last thing you need right now is to actually kill someone this time."

Toby sucks in a sharp breath. It's a direct hit, but that's exactly what Toby needs right now.

"Give me your keys," Chris says, holding out his hand.

"Why do you need my keys?"

"I'm leaving. I know you won't stay here and sober up after I go."

"I don't want you to go," Toby says, almost pouting. "Maybe I'll keep my keys so you have to stay."

"Don't make me get them off you, Toby."

Chris is losing patience fast. Toby is being a pain in the ass the way only a drunk person can. As pissed off as he is, Chris doesn't trust himself to not smack Toby in the kisser again if he doesn't cooperate.

Sulkily, Toby rummages around in his pockets and pulls out his keys. He dangles them in front of Chris instead of putting them in his outstretched hand. Chris snatches them and walks toward the door.

"You don't mean it," Toby says. "I'll call you tomorrow. Apologize. Make it better."

Chris stops in his tracks and turns around. He pulls out the cell phone Toby had given and flings it at him. Toby drops the water bottle attempting to catch it.

"Don't. Call. Me."

Miserable, Toby opens, then closes his mouth. "Chris."

Anger gets him out of the room and down to the front desk where he leaves Toby's keys. It isn't until he gets into his car that he shakes for long minutes before he can drive himself home.

---

For the first few days, Chris can hardly think about Toby without an inward wince. He can't deny the shame he feels for hitting Toby out of anger, but he can't deny the anger, either.

He tries to keep busy to keep from thinking. He has four weeks after all, before he'll see Toby again.

He goes to work, stays late, puts some time in on the weekends when he doesn't have to. He gets fast food on the way home because he doesn't have the heart to cook. He tries to go out, shoot a little pool, hit a couple of the dance clubs, but he's in no mood for company. Better to stay home and clean the grout in the bathroom than go out and try and pretend he's having fun.

His house is spotless.

Eventually, he just goes through the motions, gets through his daily routine, buries himself in his work and a few pointless activities until he just feels numb.

Two weeks after he left Toby at the hotel, Vince calls. He wants to meet.

---

Funny how he rarely goes to Vince's home to see him. Vince is just as fickle about his residence as he is about his businesses. He's lived in everything from penthouse apartments to one hundred year old mansions.

Chris drives up to a pretty, little, red brick cottage. The rose garden is sprawling all around the house, one wall entirely covered in vines. Chris snorts and shakes his head. Vince is the last person he would expect to live in this charming fairy tale house. Then again, Vince never did do anything expected of him.

The door opens before Chris can knock. Without a word, Vince guides him into the living room and seats him on an antique monstrosity of a couch with fabric patterned in giant roses. Vince offers him a drink but the very idea nauseates him.

"Toby called me."

Chris hands ball into fists on his thighs. "I told him not to contact me."

"He didn't. He called me."

He barely holds back his temper. It's almost dizzying to go from numbness to anger, but exhilarating, too. He feels alive again for the first time since he left Toby at the hotel.

"So he decided to drag you into this. What does he want you to do? Talk me into seeing him?"

Vince remains calm in the face of Chris's anger. It never was easy to faze him. "No. He explained what had happened between you. He was worried about you and he wanted to know if you're okay."

He wants to think the best of Toby, but he can't. "He just wants to make sure I'll be there when he's ready for a good fuck."

"Don't be an ass. He's going through hell. The last thing on his mind is a good fuck. He's being hounded on every side, and now there's talk of an investigation."

"Investigation?"

Vince's mouth twisted in disgust. "Maybe if you'd pick up a newspaper once in a while, you wouldn't have to ask."

"I wanted to find out from Toby, not from a newspaper."

"You want everything on your terms even though he's the one paying for your services." Chris flinches, because it's true. Vince shakes his head. "I don't think you want equal terms with him. You want everything."

"The whole shebang," Chris says. "Unconditional."

"I can't believe you still want that after all these years. And I can't believe you still want it when you aren't willing to give it."

Stung, Chris turns on Vince. "What makes you think I'm not willing to give as good as I get?"

Vince's voice is very gentle. "Because Toby is screwed up right now, scared and hurting, and you abandoned him. He didn't behave the way you wanted him to behave, so you turned your back on him."

Chris swallows hard. "He showed up drunk. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have done a lot of things, but driving him to an in-patient rehab clinic might have been a good start."

It all makes sense the way Vince explains it. At the time, Chris had been too caught up in his own hurt and anger to do anything but hurt Toby back. He doesn't even really know what's going on with Toby. He'd been too proud to call Toby first. Every time he'd seen the Beecher name mentioned in the news, he'd changed channels.

"You know I'm an addict-- " Vince starts.

"Yes, and you've been clean for almost fifteen years."

Vince looks away.

"No fucking way!" Chris jumps up and paces toward the pretty little fireplace that he suddenly wants to lob a pretty little grenade at.

"It was a long time ago," Vince sighs.

"But not fifteen years," Chris snarls.

Vince runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It was eight years ago. I was with Lyle, and you know what a mess that was, and you were still married to Angelique. I got myself into trouble and got myself out."

"And you couldn't come to me?"

It feels like a whole brand new knife is being buried in his chest next to the one marked Toby. Vince wouldn't come to Chris when he was in trouble, and Toby wouldn't come to Chris with anything other than a hard dick. He isn't a part of either of their lives, not really. He's just a fucking amusement.

Vince leans back in his chair, weary and disheveled and looking completely unlike himself. He looks every one of his thirty-six years instead of like a gorgeous, empty-headed twenty something.

"I made a mistake. Someone offered and I took it." Vince closes his eyes and lets his head fall back on the edge of his chair. "That's when I knew that I had to get Lyle out of my life. Everything was out of control, my whole life was out of control." Vince's head snaps up and he glares at Chris. "And you weren't in any shape to help me."

Chris's jaw works, and he nods, because damned if Vince isn't right. His divorce from Angelique was just as fiery as the sex, and the fights, and the fun. Still...

"You should have told me." Some of the anger starts to dissipate, but it leaves him hollow, floundering. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to burden you back then. And it never really made a difference until now. I know what Toby is going through." Vince gets up and goes to a side table and opens a drawer. He pulls out a stack of papers and brochures. He puts them onto the coffee table, then sits down. "You were there the first time when I went cold turkey. The second time, I went to a clinic that helped me get clean and taught me how to stay clean. I want you to convince Toby to go."

"Why don't you? You know more about it than I do."

"Because I'm not the one who's in love with him."

It took his breath away having it stated so baldly. "I'm not-- "

"Don't deny it." Vince's gaze is regretful. "Remember what I told you the last time we talked? I said I was too good at my job. I picked the perfect person for you. My mistake was setting up a meeting for you two instead of setting up a blind date."

The room is so quiet, he can hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel piece. He feels too raw and exposed to want to stay a minute longer. But there are still things that need to be cleared up. Sitting down on the couch that reminds him of the overstuffed furniture his grandmother favored, Chris says, "Tell me what's going on with Toby."

---

It's not good. On the way home, Chris turns everything Vince told him over in his head. Apparently, Toby's in-laws were contesting the coroner's report and wanted an autopsy, which meant an investigation as well as disinterring the body. They couldn't accept that their precious, little, lamb killed herself and that it wasn't an accident or foul play.

They were also trying to get temporary custody of the children, which in the long run would give them leverage for permanent custody. The Beecher family was fighting it tooth and nail. Toby at least had physical custody of the kids, and had moved back into his parent's house with them.

A lot of other things Vince said kept pushing to the front of his mind, no matter how hard he tries to push them away. Vince was right: Chris does want everything from Toby. He doesn't want any barriers between them. Yet, Chris has done very little to meet Toby half way. He's only ever grudgingly opened up to Toby, letting a few disconnected bits and pieces of his past slip through. Time and again, Toby had made himself vulnerable to Chris, had trusted him.

Toby screwed up, but Chris can see that he needs to cut him a break. Chris had screwed up, too. He should have talked to him, told Toby what he wanted. Maybe given Toby a little of the trust that Chris had demanded.

His thoughts are still in a whirl when he gets home. He had ordered Toby to not contact him, but that didn't mean he couldn't contact Toby instead.

---

Toby answers on the first ring. "Chris?"

"Yeah." Chris clears his suddenly dry throat and wishes he'd thought to get a beer before dialing Toby's number. Oh, hell, a glass of water. "It's me."

The silence goes on long enough that he wonders if Toby is still there.

"I thought-- I thought you didn't want to hear from me."

"Yeah, well... "

Another silence goes on painfully long, before Toby breaks it by blurting, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Chris says.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I can't believe I did something so stupid. Showing up drunk, driving drunk, public drunk-- if the police had picked me up, I could have ended up in jail. It would have given my in-laws all the ammunition they needed to take my kids. And if my kids had seen me like that, right after losing their mother..."

The torrent of words finally trails off. Chris knows how isolated Toby is, how few people there are in his life that he can talk to. Chris had deliberately cut Toby off from one outlet when he'd walked away.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have shut you out."

"I was an ass to you, even before I fell off the wagon."

"You're under a lot of stress-- "

"Don't make excuses for me," Toby says, sharply. Chris can hear him take a breath. "Look, I can't talk right now."

"Okay, I get it. I just wanted to check on you, see how you're doing."

Toby snorts. "I thought my life was a mess before, but I had no idea." Toby pauses. "Gen really screwed me over. She screwed the kids over. You were right. She timed her death to create the worst possible outcome for everyone." Before Chris can say anything, Toby adds, "I have to go. The kids are in the next room, I don't want them accidentally overhearing anything. And I can't leave them alone very long."

"Okay, just tell me when you can be free for an evening."

"You want to see me?" Toby asks, surprised.

"Yes. We need to talk, and the phone isn't the best way to do it."

"Will our usual time do?"

"Sure. See you then."

---

As usual, Chris gets there first. He doesn't do anything to the room, he walks past the chair and couch and moves to the back of the room. He tweaks back the curtains and stares out the window overlooking the city. Damn, why had he never discovered that their room has a perfect view?

There is a faint click at the door as Toby comes in, but Chris doesn't turn around. He isn't seeing the view any more, he isn't seeing anything, he's too busy listening to Toby's footsteps approaching. Toby stops, close to the chair as far as Chris can tell, and the room goes quiet.

"I really want to touch you right now, but I'm afraid you'll push me away."

Chris turns, doesn't know which one of them is moving faster, but Toby is suddenly in his arms, face tucked against Chris's throat, holding on tight. Chris clutches Toby, hands fisted in his shirt.

He smells so good, feels so good, Chris doesn't want to let go. Toby isn't inclined to let go, either. They are perilously close to clinging to each other like a couple of shipwreck survivors.

"I missed you so damn much," Toby says against Chris's collarbone.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No," Toby says. "I'm the one who's sorry. I fucked everything up."

Chris finally pushes him away so he can see Toby's face. He looks like hell, dark circles under his eyes, and he's lost some weight. "I fucked up, too. We both did."

"You can't take any of the blame for me falling off the wagon."

"No, but I can take the blame for other things."

The impulse to take Toby over to the couch like their usual routine is powerful, but it's not a good idea. The chairs, the bedroom, hell, even the bathroom, have memories attached. There isn't a single place in the room that doesn't have a whole boatload of associations, most of them good, but not what they need for this conversation.

Letting go of Toby, he tries to make the best of it. Grabbing the chair that Toby usually throws his suit jacket on, he pulls it over to the window. There is a spindly little chair by the desk that they've never touched, and he places it across from the first chair. While he opens the curtains, Toby turns out the lights without being asked.

Toby comes to stand next to the smaller chair. "The view is spectacular."

"It should be. You're paying enough for it."

Toby sits, tilts his head at Chris. "Money's another issue for us."

As Chris sits down, he keeps his eyes on the view, watching the lights of the evening traffic moving along the streets like rivers of golden light rushing through the veins of the city. "Yeah, it's a problem," Chris admits.

"I was never comfortable about the money, but it was all part of the deal. It was stupid of me to want a deal like that in the first place."

"Fucking Vince," Chris says.

Toby's hand lands on his knee and squeezes gently. "Hey, he got us together. That's all that really matters in the end. We're together."

Chris puts his hand over Toby's. "Yeah, we're together." He thinks about all the times he's been burned and is almost reluctant to say what needs to be said. "We can work it out." When he looks at Toby, he's looking back at Chris, the city lights flickering over his face. "No money. No drinking. You get help."

Toby nods, "I've been getting help. Talked to my sponsor-- actually, I had the long talk with my sponsor that I should have had months ago. I went to a several meetings, started taking responsibility for my addiction."

Chris has to bring it up, especially after what Vince had said. "Have you considered going into rehab?"

"Yes, and I'm looking into outpatient programs. I can't afford to check myself into a clinic right now. I can't leave my kids, they need me. And I can't give my in-laws any more ammunition against me than they already have."

"You're not just making excuses?"

"I'm getting real help, from a lot of people. I'm doing what I have to do to stay sober." Chris turns his head and looks out at the city. "And you. What are you going to do?" Toby asks.

"What do you mean?" He feels like such a chickenshit for being evasive, especially with Toby putting himself on the line.

"I can't read your mind. You have to start talking to me. You have to start telling me what you want. What you need."

"I can do that."

"And no more walking away. No matter how tough it gets, you have to hang in there. I don't think I can take you freezing me out every time you get pissed off."

"I won't."

"That's not very reassuring. You'll have to do better than that."

He turns to Toby, some smart remark on his lips, when he sees just how bad he looks. Stress and weariness line his face, his body is slumped in the chair. Toby has already put himself out there, opened himself up. Now Chris has to meet him half way or they might as well call it quits.

"I want to trust you, Toby, I do. I want to try."

"Is it because of the drinking?"

Chris has to be honest. "No, the drinking isn't what's holding me back." He can't sit there any more, he has to move around. Turning on a nearby lamp, he moves restlessly around the room.

"Is it me? I know I'm a basket-case right now. I probably don't seem like a good gamble. We got off on the wrong foot, but I don't regret meeting you, or having sex with you, or dating you." Toby gets up and blocks Chris's path, making him halt so they are face to face. They're not quite close enough to touch.
"But you do have regrets."

Toby inches a little closer. "Yeah. I regret hurting you. I regret trying to take a stupid short-cut instead of doing the real work of staying sober."

Hesitantly, Toby touches the back of Chris's wrist.

"I've taken a leave of absence from my job. I don't think I'm going back, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I've done all I can do with our relationship from my end." Toby licks his lips nervously and takes a firmer grip on Chris's wrist. "The rest is up to you."

"I've been burned, Toby. Badly. More than once. I want to trust you, but I'm not sure that I can."

"But are you willing to try?"

"Yeah, I'll try."

"If you don't, I'll kick your ass."

Chris moves closer to Toby, close enough that it would be easy to kiss him. "Mmmm, I love it when you're forceful."

Toby gives Chris a little shake. "I'm not playing around."

"Neither am I." For a long moment, Chris gazes into Toby's eyes. "I agree. I'll start talking. And all of this," Chris gestures at the room. "No more Thursday nights, at least not here. My place, or your place, or somewhere else, but not here."

Chris feels Toby's smile, tastes the happiness, as their lips meet. They are both breathless when the kiss finally breaks. Toby leans into Chris, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

"Hey," Chris says, voice husky. "I still want to tie you up once in a while."

Toby's voice is muffled, but still plain to hear. "Only if I get to tie you up, too."

It's a good deal. Chris decides to take it.

END

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